#grovelling!Drarry

[dewitty1]

Hii! I was wondering if you could rec fics where either Draco or Harry have to do some serious groveling. Like, they fuck up, and they have to make it up to the other. It’s my guilty pleasure 😅

Thank you!

Hi @albondiguilla007! Thanks for your ask!

Let me just say that I have not read all of these, and I don't know if they will fit your criteria specifically.

Calico Skies by Fate_and_folly

Draco’s voice shook. “You don’t know what it’s like to have you. No one knows what it’s like to lose you.” A sob fled from him. “Please don’t make me be the first.” Harry’s face crumpled, looking away, and Draco knew then it was over. “It’s my past, it must be. I asked before and you said –” “I have forgiven you –” “I am a person!” Then quieter, “A person; not just something to be forgiven.” ~ With his family’s name and misdeeds laying heavily upon him, Draco Malfoy returns to Hogwarts for a torturous eighth year. He finds himself unrequitedly in love with Harry Potter and at odds with everyone around him, even the bricks. While navigating the post-war world, he is forced to decide both who he is and what he wants.

Sometimes It Lasts In Love (But Sometimes It Hurts Instead) by bryoneybrynn

Despite the fact their relationship has been over for years, Draco finds himself standing at Harry Potter’s front door one winter’s afternoon…

Cassiopeia Lily Malfoy by GallaPlacidia (find the Archive drive HERE)

In eighth year, Harry had a toxic fling with Draco Malfoy. Ten years later, a little girl shows up, begging for Harry's help. Could the two be connected? And did Harry misunderstand what Draco was trying to tell him, the last time they spoke? Feat. angry 8th year Harry being truly horrible to Draco, Draco writing a lot of letters he never sends Harry, and the most Gryffindor-Slytherin hybrid ten-year-old you've ever seen.

The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by hiimcibee

Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved! So Draco decides to boldly go where no one has gone before: to put himself through scrutiny; their friends’ teasing and pranks; unsound romantic advice from a house-elf; wearing pretty clothes; all to try and win Potter’s heart through courtship. (An unnamed ginger bastard can be heard yelling from afar: “This is actually a detailed guide on how not to court someone!”) But who cares about the opinions of redheads? Literally no one.

Such Great Heights by aideomai

Draco Malfoy, wide-eyed and pale and in a decidedly ragged shirt, was crouched next to the pile of whatever the dragon had been eating. Harry threw himself to a halt and yelled, “Merlin, how many times do I have to save your life?”

Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats

Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

[drarry-soulmates]

Thoughts on drarry

I didn’t like Draco before reading the books. In the movies, they just portrayed him as a bully so I didn’t care for him. In the books he def hits different. :‘V

I mean, he’s still a “bully” in the sense that he messes with Harry, but he’s not actually bullying Harry. He picks on Harry, in the same way you’d mess with your crush, and Harry can more than hold his own. Harry even scares him:

“Missing your half-breed pal?” he kept whispering to Harry whenever there was a teacher around, so that he was safe from Harry’s retaliation.

So… he was scared but so gay, he couldn’t resist becos this is literally the only way he could keep Harry in his life. x’D Imagine being afraid of your crush’s wrath but you just.. can’t help it lol >///<

And literally picking on Harry is the only way he can continue to talk to Harry because after the rejected handshake (and being in different Houses), Draco is too prideful to grovel for friendship. Harry basically condemned their relationship to schoolyard 'enemies’ who will risk their lives again and again for each other. Who’s mutual obsession becomes so obvious that everyone just knows that they look out for each other, despite outwardly acting like they hate each other. When other characters can see it, you know it’s real.

Despite being schoolyard 'enemies’, Harry absolutely falls for Draco so hard. Harry can’t ever stop staring at Draco no matter what Draco is doing (whether he’s acting suspiciously or just eating his lunch), and Draco likewise cannot stop watching him. Draco can’t stop talking about Harry either, in the same way when you have a crush, you can’t stop talking about that person. When i have a crush, i am talking about them literally nonstop. Every little thing your crush does is absolutely fascinating. That is Draco with Harry. Draco’s dad had to tell him to shut up about Harry LMAO. Draco not realizing how obvious he is being:

“… everyone thinks he’s so smart, wonderful Potter with his scar and his broomstick — ”

“You have told me this at least a dozen times already,” said Mr. Malfoy, with a quelling look at his son.

Like, bruh, just pls STFU XD it’s no wonder Voldemort became suspicious of his feelings for Harry:

"He did not come and join me, like the rest of the Slytherins. Perhaps he has decided to befriend Harry Potter?”

lmaoo.

And of course how Narcissa just assumed that Harry, a kid who she must’ve known wasn’t exactly friends with her son (them being on opposite sides of the war) would know or care to take notes about the whereabouts of her son in the middle of a goddamn war:

“Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?”

The whisper was barely audible; her lips were an inch from his ear, her head bent so low that her long hair shielded his face from the onlookers.

“Yes,” he breathed back.

And of course she was right. Harry did know. In fact, both of them had just finished saving each others’ lives.

Yep.

Harry saved the life of a Death Eater. In the middle of the war. Against Voldemort.

At a time when the less Death Eaters there were, the better. Even Ron had thought Harry was being ludicrous for going back in the fiendfyre that Draco’s friend started in an attempt to kill them:

“It’s — too — dangerous — !” Ron yelled, but Harry wheeled in the air. “IF WE DIE FOR THEM, I’LL KILL YOU, HARRY!” roared Ron’s voice.

Harry risked his FRIENDS’ LIVES.

For Draco.

Draco, who had at this point, openly admitted to being a Death Eater. Draco, his supposed sworn enemy in school and outside of it.

Harry could care less about Goyle or Blaise, he was all about saving Draco. Harry didn’t even notice that Crabbe was long gone at this point LOL.

And right before the fire, Draco did the same for him. After Draco confronted Harry instead of surprise attacking him (knowing full well that Harry is too formidable in an open confrontation), Draco refused to let his friends hurt him as Crabbe was about to unleash a non-killing hex:

STOP!” Malfoy shouted at Crabbe, his voice echoing through the enormous room. “The Dark Lord wants him alive —” “So? I’m not killing him, am I?”

And then: “Don’t kill him! DON’T KILL HIM!” Malfoy yelled…

Draco NEVER yells. Ever. He is always so calm and collected (when he’s not obsessing over Harry). So this is honestly incredible to me that he is yelling….. He is straight-up panicking because his friends might hurt Harry.

And then of course in Malfoy Manor, even at great risk to himself and his family, he doesn’t reveal Harry’s identity. When asked if Harry was in fact Harry Potter:

“I don’t know,” he said…

Although he has no problem giving away Hermione or Ron’s identity.

Look, Draco, isn’t it the Granger girl?” “I … maybe … yeah.” “But then, that’s the Weasley boy!” shouted Lucius, striding around the bound prisoners to face Ron. “It’s them, Potter’s friends — Draco, look at him, isn’t it Arthur Weasley’s son, what’s his name — ?” “Yeah,” said Draco again, his back to the prisoners. “It could be.”

Draco had never been just another Death Eater to Harry. Draco was someone Harry had grown to fall slowly in love with over the years, despite their animosity. And Draco, for his sake, had fallen so hard for Harry, THE sworn enemy of Voldemort.

In the books, he and Harry are obviously hopelessly in love with each other. Countless passages showcase their obsession, including Harry’s constant thinking about Draco’s looks, like his eyes or his hair, or his smirks (Draco’s version of winking). Harry doesn’t think about anyone’s eyes as often as he does Draco’s (Ginny’s eyes we only know are brown.. What shade? idk, DRACO’S EYES HOWEVER). He knows Draco so well, which is shocking because they’re not even friends or in the same House. He knows Draco better than he knows all of his actual friends, except for Ron & Hermione.

He can read Draco so well, even though Draco is a pro at Occlumency because he had learned from a young age to shut down his emotions and present a cold, strong exterior. This again, goes back to his pridefulness due to his rough upbringing under Lucius. But Harry can see through that. And Harry is likely one of the very few that can. (On a side note, Tom Felton said that if Draco had been raised by Hagrid, he would’ve turned out much differently, even been perhaps a hugger. lol.)

Draco’s obsession, then, is even more incredible when you consider that he is actually really good at hiding how he feels. But with Harry, he just cannot for the life of him, hide it. You can’t help who you love, after all. Despite Draco’s obsession being more obvious because he’s just so damn aggressive with it, Harry’s tiny, shy expressions are utterly endearing…. like that time Draco was in the middle of an OWL exam and Harry merely *walked into the room*:

Harry distinctly saw Malfoy throw a scathing look over at him; the wine glass Malfoy had been levitating fell to the floor and smashed. Harry could not suppress a grin.

How adorable is that?!?!?! (from BOTH of them!!!! you’re really telling me that Draco went from getting an O to an E grade in his Levitation portion of the exam just becos of Harry lol. and Harry’s tiny little shy smiles aweee) *squeals* and what’s more:

Malfoy elbowed past Hermione to block Harry’s way up the stone steps to the castle, his face gleeful and his pale eyes glinting maliciously.

“Shove off, Malfoy,” said Ron, whose jaw was clenched.

Harry just stayed quiet. How gay is this scene? Like, a guy who’s blocking your path is a total romance movie trope LOL. I’m just imagining Harry standing there blushing. >///< Ron is often a cockblock, ngl (more on that in my analysis of DH). Harry’s personality in the books is pretty outgoing, and he most definitely has a temper too, towards others. But when it comes to Draco, it’s Ron that gets overly aggressive, even when Draco isn’t messing with Ron. In fact, often when anyone talks badly about Draco, Harry doesn’t. He does talk non-stop shit about Umbridge, Snape, or Rita Skeeter, but not Draco lol……. He hates Snape too, and often compares Snape and Draco, as he thinks about how he hates Snape far more than Draco lol.

Snape had emerged from the staircase leading down to his office, and at the sight of him Harry felt a great rush of hatred beyond anything he felt toward Malfoy…

Even though Draco messes with him far more than Snape does. He loves the attention he gets from Draco, so much so that once Draco has his own shit to deal with in HBP and stops messing with him as much, Harry takes to literally *STALKING* him with a magical map all around the school………….

Despite his determination to catch Malfoy out, Harry had no luck at all over the next couple of weeks. Although he consulted the map as often as he could, sometimes making unnecessary visits to the bathroom between lessons to search it, he did not once see Malfoy anywhere suspicious.

Lmao. Remember, at this point, he still had no concrete evidence Draco was doing anything sus. None of his closest friends who had both been witnesses to Draco’s supposedly sus activities agreed it was anything worth worrying over. But nope, Harry can’t drop it. It’s to the point where even Arthur Weasley knows about his crush……

“I think you missed something,” said Harry stubbornly.

‘Well, maybe,’ said Mr Weasley, but Harry could tell that Mr Weasley was humouring him.

lmaooooo. Arthur’s reaction to his baseless accusations towards Draco was hilarious. x’D It’s truly fascinating how the adults around them just know. Both Draco’s parents and Voldemort, just as Arthur knows for Harry.

The story of Harry and Draco is an accidental horribly tragic love story for both repressed gay boys who are too afraid to actually admit how they feel. :( Their untold love is truly the epic forbidden love story of the entire goddamn series. It had the best most perfect build-up and chemistry, and JKR just like, totally overlooked that due to her irrational dislike of Draco Malfoy for some reason. 😮‍💨

Welp, that’s it for now. I’m in the middle of getting through HBP with my notes. I’ll make a new post once I finish taking the rest of my drarry notes with the series. I still had a ton more to say about DH but i’ll leave it for once I’m actually finished with the DH notes.

[lov3-lik3-ghosts]

Smitten!Neville Longbottom

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x fem!Lupin!reader

Summary: Neville watched you be sorted and hasn’t stopped thinking of you since. To his luck, during your fifth year, you finally start to take interest in the male species.

Warnings: Not beta read. Use of Y/n. Voldemort stays dead after the first war. Umbridge free au. WolfStar raised Harry Potter and reader. Mentioned Drarry. Usage of ‘Moomy’ and ‘Dadfoot’.

Format: Headcanon’s.

Word Count: 4k.

Request Guidelines Main Masterlist

~ 𐀔 ~ △⃒⃘ ~ 𐀔 ~

• Fifth year for you looked miles different to that of your brothers and your fathers had no clue how to handle it.

Growing up with only men wasn’t the hell that some of your girlfriends thought it was, but it was off putting to potential interest in boys. You were well aware how messy and lax they could be, how oblivious they were when it came to more female matters, and it wasn’t appealing. There was a time during muggle primary school that you’d found a boy cute but your brother was quick to scare him away — egged on by the background nudge of your dad. Since then, boys hadn’t really crossed your mind.

But last year, when the TriWizard Tournament took place and Durmstrang made home on Hogwarts grounds, something stirred. Looking back, they weren’t really all that cute, but tall, muscly, foreign men with thick accents were bound to make something click in anyone’s head. Of course, you weren’t the only one to notice their attractiveness, as proven by the whispered conversations by any group of girls you came across, but you were proud to say you didn’t pick one boy to be your favourite and all but claim him from the dating scene when he didn’t even know your name.

What your fathers didn’t know how to handle was your liking to famous stars, what they considered to be ‘suggestive’ muggle romance novels, and your need to gush about them. You weren’t overbearing, most of the time going back and forth with a surprisingly interested Luna Lovegood, but on the occasion that you’d come to them they’d freeze.

It was more the thought that their daughter was taking interest in boys than your want for conversation, how could you go from thinking men were so uninteresting to thinking their faces were “crafted from Merlin’s dirtiest desires” and calling them “babygirl material” so quickly?

In retrospect they found your tangents funny, or they would if you weren’t their little girl.

Harry was easier for them to deal with when he’d taken an interest in dating. Boys they were familiar with, they’d been them and they’d known them and they knew how to guide him. And Harry was sensible when it came to women, respectful and understanding, but he’d taken more of an interest in boys so there wasn’t too much to warn him off of. Your brothers exploring came during the throes of the TriWizard Tournament but you took on a more observative state than you did an explorative one.

In the beginning of fifth year you realised that big and muscly wasn’t really what you wanted from a boy. Teenagers tended to be run by appearance, social standing and magical prowess, you could understand the appeal of it but those that had all three were unappealing in the personality aspect of attraction, at least to you they were. Sadly, you’d found that out the hard way when you’d agreed to go on a date with a popular Hufflepuff and come out of it with bruised knuckles.

But nervous Gryffindor’s obsessed with Herbology? That was your type.

And you might not be a Potter, but your brother was one and every behaviour you have now is learned from your small family, why not his ability to grovel too?

• You’ve been trying for weeks to get Neville to return your feelings, nothing seems to be working.

With Neville you couldn’t be so public with your affections as Harry had been for his boyfriend, Draco Malfoy. Luckily, that worked better for you, too. You were never one for dramatic displays and magical scenes.

Neville liked soft, sweet moments and deep conversations — he liked to be heard, to be seen, and you were wonderful at noticing everything about him. He didn’t like expensive jewels and flashy gifts but he did like the Herbology books hidden in the depths of the Black library and the muggle plants you’d find in local shops. He didn’t like public confessions and loud admittances but he did like telling his deep dark secrets in the cover of the greenhouse so long as you shared yours too.

He didn’t like people pointing out his struggle in potions but he took swimmingly to you pointing him in the right direction. He got deeply embarrassed when others pointed out a stain on his shirt but he grinned so wide when you bought him a new one on your next trip to Hogsmeade — especially when he noticed that you’d taken the time to get it made by his favourite seamstress in his preferred style.

As much as he took to your advances, nothing seemed to be changing between you. Neville didn’t reciprocate the small actions you’d taken but he didn’t decline them either and you’d began to wonder if he just didn’t feel the same. The realisation was crushing, a festering feeling largening in your chest, and it had you taking solace in your fathers quarters with tear-tracked cheeks.

“I don’t get it,” You sobbed into Remus’ chest. “I’ve been trying really hard, I’ve been listening to everything he has to say carefully to make sure I don’t miss anything, I’ve been learning Herbology just to make conversation with him and he just- just doesn’t like me.”

Remus swallowed, blinking his heartache back. “You don’t need to try so hard for some boy, sweetheart. You’re perfect as you are. Sometimes boys are stupid and they don’t notice what’s right in front of them, and I would know, I’m a boy.”

You sprung up, sitting back onto your haunches. “But he’s not just some boy, Moomy! He’s Neville, he’s perfect, he’s kind and he’s sweet and he listens! And-” You paused, lips quivering with held back cries. “And I love him. I love him so much it hurts.”

His face softened, silvery scars unwrinkling. He pulled you back into his chest with a grip on your wrists, settling you back between the v of his legs. “Oh, baby, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.” You gasp out. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I must be doing something wrong, Moomy, I have to be.” His arms tighten around you, a pressured hug to ground you from spiralling into anxiety’s grip.

The door creaked behind you, silent behind the pitch of your heart, but still, Remus’ head whirled at the sound, finding your brother and your second father standing under the arch. “Remus?” Sirius asked tentatively. “What’s going on? Why’s she crying?”

Remus frowned deeper, shaking his head once as he turned and buried his nose into your hair. Your cries kept on, retching from the pits of your stomach and choking the breath from you, Remus’ shirt dampened under your face and you knew it must be leaking through to his chest but he didn’t seem to mind. “Sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer. Your tears began to slow, drying along with your sobs. You noticed a third hand rubbing along the length of your back, the familiar scent of leather and spice flourishing into your nose. “Dadfoot?”

“Kitten. You doing alright?” His hand didn’t still. “Did something happen?”

“I’m in love with someone,” You whispered. His fingers paused, flexing out against your spine. “He doesn’t love me back.”

“What?” He gruffs, “Who?”

You copy Remus, you shake your head. Sirius wasn’t as restrained as Remus, he’d lost hinges in Azkaban that couldn’t be screwed back in, telling him would put a forever target on Neville’s back — you might as well paint a big red circle on the back of his head should he find out. Sirius snarls, more animal than human.

“Sirius.” Remus warns, growl underlining his own words.

Black sneers, eyes darkening under the stare of his husband. “Remus.” Their gazes don’t falter, like one scorching laser beams trained against the other, sparking crimson and crackling with tension. Sirius breaks first, glancing down at you. “Who?” He says, softer.

“Neville Longbottom.” When Harry speaks his voice is taught with all-knowing. He’s looking between the three of you like you're as mind-gone as any troll, his eyebrow raised and his lips curled. “He’s been in love with her for years.”

• After Harry’s confession, you profess your feelings to Neville.

You could always find him under the glass of the greenhouse, surrounded by vining plants with his fingers dug deep in potted soil, your search for him started and ended there. There was an open book beside him, set against one of the murky windows, and you recognised the weathered pages to be that of a book you’d given him.

The Arts of Potted Mastery by Arlen McCline. It was one of the lightest novels that the Black’s had kept in Grimmauld’s library, and you reasoned the only reason they had it was because it contained additional — vital — information pertaining to a particularly testy flesh-eating plant grown in the Amazon’s depths. You’d warned Neville to not go flaunting his possession of it, lest he want to attract the possessive eyes of other purebloods.

His hands slid from the dirt when you called his name and you glimpsed the remnants embedded under the crescent of his nails and staining his palms when he turned to you. “Y/n.” He grinned.

You smiled back, stepping over his satchel to grab his dirt caked hands and brush the larger clumps to the ground. “Hi. What’re you working on?”

“It’s pretty simple, just some second year stuff that I wanted to try potting myself.” He shrugged, looking down at you with furrowed brows.

“There’s second year stuff in that book?” Neville nods. “What is it?”

“A Puffapod.”

“You planted Puffapod’s in second year?”

“Not exactly,” He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Nan bought me some at the end of second year to plant with her over the summer but you know how she is, she doesn’t like when I do the touching.”

“Yeah,” You scoff. “I’m well aware.”

“Well aware?” He flinched back. “What’s that mean?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You shake your head, cutting a hand through the air. Neville raises a brow at you, calling your bullshit. “It’s just–” You sigh, looking at the half-full pot beside you. “I just don’t like how she underestimates you all the time. You’re good at what you do, Nev, you’re good with plants. I think people could be more appreciative of you.”

Everything is silent for a long minute and when you look back at him, his eyes are trailing the slope of your face with a look you could never before place; now that Harry’s tipped the pot though, you knew it all too well — he was admiring you.

“You appreciate me.” He whispers, swallowing roughly.

A dirt tracked hand raises to the apple of your cheek, you steady yourself for the touch, your cheeks reddening, but he hesitates before dropping his arm.

Your fingers wrap the span of his wrist just barely when you grab it, shuffling your feet so close your shoes touch. “Always.”

His breath catches in his chest. He chokes out a strangled noise, chin tilting closer to his chest to keep the contact between you. Your eyes flicker to his lips, the plump shine of them enticing you onto the tips of your toes.

“Neville?”

Neville hums, a rumble through his chest that vibrates through you.

“There’s something I have to tell you.” His head inclines to the side, an anxious puppy dog gesture he always does when he’s anticipating bad news. You’re quick to try and placate him.

“It’s nothing bad, at least I don’t think it is.” You frown. “I just- I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but things have changed over the last few months. At least, for me they have. And yesterday, I had this whole…breakdown? I don’t know, but Harry spilled that you might fancy me and I- I guess–”

His cheeks flame. His breath quickens to an unnatural pace, he steps back, wriggling his wrist in your grasp. “He what?”

“Nev?” You ask smally. He ignores you, too wrapped up in panicking to really hear you. “Neville?”

“I’m sorry he said that. He didn’t mean it, he was being stupid. You didn’t need to know that. You shouldn’t know that. We’re friends. We’re good as friends. I mean sure, I’ve always thought you were really pretty, really lovely, but you don’t like me. And now things are going to be all awkward. I’m so sorry, Y/n. Really, I am.”

“Neville.” You try to placate. “It’s okay.”

“No. No, it’s not. You deserve better than me lying to you.” His breath shutters.

“Nev, I wanted to tell you that I fancied you, too.” You blurt, grasping onto the hunch of his shoulders.

“I’m so sorr-” He stops, looking at you with wide, crazed eyes, and stares through you. “Oh. What? No!” You see the grief flash through him, inflaming his forest eyes and furrowing his face.

“Yes.” You counter with a scoff. “I fancy you. I fancy you, a lot. And, if you’d do me the honour, I’d like it if you went on a date with me.”

“Oh.” Neville’s voice cracked in a squeak. “Yeah. Yes. Sure. I mean, I’d be delighted. Truly.” You grin.

• You asked him on a date but Neville’s more romantic than you anticipated and he’s planned it before you could even try.

If you were being honest with yourself, you’d have taken Neville where all your peers took their dates, a ruddy bar packed full of too loud men and music or a too sweet cafe filled with superficial witches — maybe you’d have drug him between the shops of Hogsmeade, hoping he’d find something he liked, and made filler conversations between that. It wouldn’t have been much, but you’d never thought ahead of the chance he’d say yes, so it would have been something; it would have been a start.

But Neville had bigger, greater plans than that.

He’d asked for the greenhouse for two hours, reserved it with Madam Pomfrey a week in advance, before visiting the kitchens through the passageway you’d shown him. The house elves reserved there were surprisingly stingy with the food they gave him, handing along the woven basket with stern stares and sideway glances, but he’d gotten over it when he’d seen people rushing off to the Great Hall, ready to pile their plates high with the food lining the tables and figured they hadn’t wanted him to spoil his dinner.

He knew taking you to the greenhouse wasn’t so special as some fancy diner, that laying a blanket on the muddied floor wasn’t original at all, but the greenhouse was where most of your dearest memories together were created and it had more sentimental value to the two of the any other place yet.

He’d thought and thought and overthought some more about whether it was good enough for you, he’d ran himself into a rapidfire panic three nights in a row before the day came, but all the anxiety in the world was worth it when you walked through the keep, smiling and fiddling with your sleeve.

“Hi.” You said, meekly.

Neville stared. The evening sun reflected in golden beams off you, kaleidoscoping through the bubbled panes above and haloing the outline of your body, the ivory dress you’d worn flourished around your hips and cuffed around your wrists — he remembers it being the same one you’d gushed over for days, for all its pockets and its charm. The longer he looked at you, the more the thought surfaced, and the only thing he knew you were missing were large, feathered wings mounting your back.

“Hi, Angel.” He hadn’t meant to say it, but he’d been thinking it since first year and you deserved to know how otherworldly you always looked, if only through a pet name. You flushed through to the tips of your ears. “I’m sorry it was such short notice. I just thought we should take this in before the rain starts up again.” He nodded to the sun.

“That’s okay.” You sat across from him. “Though, I thought I was planning this date? I did ask you, after all.” You teased.

“Nan lettered. Told me it was my duty to court you, not the other way around, especially because your dads a Black. I know you don’t usually abide by pureblood rules but she insisted, and I know you hate planning things.”

“You’re right, I do hate planning things,” You nodded, stomach fluttering. “But on the contrary, I’d have planned this gleefully. No matter how bad it’d have turned out.” Him taking over meant more than just that, he was anxious enough for three people and you know it must’ve sucked getting it done; he did it anyway, for you.

Neville snickered. “You should give yourself more credit. Don’t you remember the big drop of ‘93?”

You gasped, scandalised. “Mister Longbottom! I thought we agreed to never ever speak of that again!”

“Miss Lupin! If you didn’t want to speak of it, you shouldn’t have dropped it!”

The two of you stayed silent, glaring between each other with narrowed gazes. He cracked first, lips twitching open to bare a grin, you followed, giggling. The nerves you’d walked in with had gone, dissipated into that familiar warmth and comfort that Neville always gave you. You’d been lucky enough to realise what that feeling meant this year, instead of brushing it off to that same friendship feeling. When Neville planned the date, and sent you a letter with a suggested time and place, you knew your gut had picked right.

The two of you spent hours giggling and sharing food and telling tall tales of your childhood that somehow sounded real and not all at once. You made a game of guessing between each story; Neville won: 5:3. Along the line he pulled over a pot of daisies, muggle flowers he’d planted for you in secret when you’d sent him some chained together over the holidays, and made another game of naming each one.

• Neville tells you he loves you; you cry.

You’d been together for five months and the honeymoon phase was finally settling into a more domestic comfortability. Your relationship had flourished rather slowly considering you’d both liked each other beforehand, but your anxieties had finally begun to diminish and your affection towards each other was becoming less calculated.

Remus had bought a chocolate cake for the two of you to share when you told him you’d confessed with the words “I’m so proud of you” iced atop; it was a little joke on his part but one you both thoroughly enjoyed. His treatment of Neville hadn’t changed at all, except for maybe a kinder smile thrown his way during his classes, but Sirius took it a little more seriously and had tried the “hurt her and watch what happens” talk before you’d put a stop to it. You loved your dadfoot, but he could be a bit much, especially to your boyfriend — Merlin, you loved saying that — who was fragile at heart.

You’d only started venturing to Neville’s dorm a few weeks back, which Harry had at first side-eyed before realising the most you did was cuddle — he gagged, but you were more comfortable there than you had ever been anywhere else. Neville kept his space relatively clean with only a few loose papers smattered and spilled ink staining his desk, but the sheets of his bed smelled so like him that you were prepared to suffocate inhaling them.

Your boyfriend smelt like the wispy, airy scent of an earthy cologne that was always underlined by something so incredibly him, and something you could never quite get out of your nose — not that you’d ever want too. You’d begun to collect the shirts he wore, switching them out every couple days to keep their scent fresh and using them at night to sleep better, Neville just about combusted when he saw you in one.

Now, you were lay in his bed, leg hiked over his hip with your head on his chest and wearing one of his comfier shirts. The dorm was otherwise empty, the other boys gone to the after party of a victorious quidditch season; the music vibrated up through the common room, loud jeers leaking muffled through the gap under the door.

“Nev,” You spoke. “Did I ever tell you how much I love how you smell? ‘Cause I do.”

The breaths he took were even under you, rising and falling in a steady pattern, and your head followed as he chortled lightly. “Yeah, you have.” His thumb strokes along your arm. “But you smell much better.”

You move to rest your chin against his breastbone, “I do?” Neville hums. “What do I smell like?”

His eyes meet yours, the emerald depths piercing through yours with a heart-stuttering suddenness. He takes a minute to think, looking over the curve of your face with a gentleness. “Honestly?” He swallows.

You furrow your eyebrows. “Yeah?”

He takes a breath, one that you feel catch in his chest and bob his throat, “Like… like Amortentia.” He says tentatively. “I- I just– Professor Snape had it made for seventh years and there was a vial left on my desk, I knocked it over. It- it smelt amazing, like mum’s perfume and dad’s robes and… and you.”

You can’t do anything but stare at his flushed cheeks. Amortentia. The love potion. Neville smelt you in the love potion. Did that mean he loved you? Were you looking too deep into it? Surely, he thought it was too soon to love you, surely he needed more time to love you.

“Y/n? I’m sorry. It’s too soon, I’m sorry. So sorry. I should’ve just shut my mouth. I’m so stupid. I’m really sorry.” He gently manoeuvres you off of him, guiding your leg to the red duvet and moving your torso back to the mattress so he can sit up, create distances between you. Your head lands against the plush of his pillow, sinking into the cloud of it, and it’s his gentle manhandling that forces you back into the throes.

“No.” You spring up, grasping onto the muscle of his shoulder. “Nev, no, it’s not too soon. It’s not. I– I don’t know what you're trying to say but it’s never too soon.”

When he turns to you the flush of his cheeks has spread down his neck and dusted his ears, his eyes are wide and crazed — like when you’d confessed; he’s beautiful, more tempting than the allure of a Veela could ever hope to be. But he’s panicking and his breath grows ragged as he spits the words, he’s not being mean, not intentionally, but anxiety has a funny way of making people act differently.

His panic makes your eyes well over, clouding with panicked sorrow of their own. There’s a dam waiting to break as his lip quivers, cracking in the corners of your eyes and ready to drown trails down your cheeks.

“I love you.”

You sob. Neville scoots closer to you, gripping the fat of your thigh. “I’ve loved you for a long, long time and you– you’re just so sweet, and lovely, and perfect, and you do everything right, all the time. You could burn the world and I’d praise you for it because you’d have done it perfectly. I watched you be sorted and I knew I was done for; you looked like an angel, my angel. I love you.” He takes a breath. “You don’t have to say it back, I just needed you to know.”

The emotion swirls in your chest, you don’t know what it is, you can’t place it, it takes your breath and collects in your throat and you don’t know it, but you know what to say. “I love you, too. So much it hurts.” Your voice breaks through it, a cry caught in your throat.

“Oh.” It’s becoming his go to response with you, you seem to always know how to render him speechless.

~ 𐀔 ~ △⃒⃘ ~ 𐀔 ~

I can admit that this isn’t my best work, my heart wasn’t in it after all the kafuffle it caused, but likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated and extremely encouraging all the same!

[sitp-recs]

Hey do you have any Drarry fic recs which basically have Draco completely changing in 8th year/after the war, like he's dyed his hair and has tattoos and just has become more friendly and changed and Harry basically loses his mind? Kinda tired of the grovelling Draco or animosity fics atp.. Thanks :)

Hi anon! Omg yes, love me confused Harry losing his mind over a changed, hotter and confident Draco. This trope always delivers even when Draco doesn’t go through major physical changes (I love it when he gets extra though 🤌🏼). I have a few recs but they’re all post-Hogwarts, I hope they still work for you!

Enjoy the Silence by @shealwaysreads (M, 3.4k)

Draco stops speaking, gets some tattoos, and discovers that Harry’s happy to be quiet with him.

Under Your Skin by p1013 (E, 4k)

He initials another section and flips the page. Being a junior Auror is a lot more grunt work than he expected, and the paperwork isn't even the worst of it. He's also managed to catch intake duty. It's getting close to 2 AM, there hasn't been a single arrest brought in tonight, and he's still got another six hours before his shift is over. Rubbing a hand over his face, he prays for something, anything, to make the interminable evening better.

The Study of Change by p1013 (M, 4.3k)

Harry's going to hell. He's going to hell immediately. Even with all of the good he's done in his life, he's never going to overcome the impure thoughts racing through his head at the sight of Draco Malfoy looking like an academic wet dream in a room full of barely legal adults.

Starstruck by phrynne (E, 4.5k)

Yeah, Malfoy has pink hair. Or sort of. Half of his hair is shaved short and dyed an aggressive pink. The other half is still white-blond, a strand falling over his right eye, only the left side of his face visible at all times. He turns it slightly and spots me beyond the moving bodies. He doesn’t stop dancing, a smile plays on his lips. This time I don’t look away like I used to when all this began.

Sex on Legs in Six-Inch Heels by @tessacrowley (E, 9.6k)

Draco Malfoy is a brilliant freelance cursebreaker and the only one who can help the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with a very dangerous case, but more importantly, he's wearing six-inch heels, and Harry cannot handle it, he really just can't.

Dream by the Fire by GallifreyisBurning (M, 11k)

When Draco Malfoy resurfaces in England after eight years abroad—tattooed, pierced, and wanting to take over a corner of Harry's coffee shop to work on a writing project—Harry can't help but be intrigued. Where has he been? What is he working on? Why here? And why does he have to look so stupidly hot with all those tattoos?

Cold Like Fire by QueenofThyme (M, 12k)

Head Auror Harry Potter had no problem with mandatory consent training for his team. He’d actually been looking forward to it, that is, until he discovered who the teacher was. Now, he had no idea how he was going to get through the training without throwing a hex at Draco Malfoy. Or a punch.

In the Shape of Things to Come by @academicdisasterfic (E, 15k)

Existential angst and chronic boredom are plaguing Harry Potter in his cushy post-war life. However, a chance encounter with a tattooed, pierced, disgruntled Draco Malfoy in the middle of Muggle Camden seems to spark something in Harry again—and he never could stay away from Malfoy.

We Might Be Too Old for a Bildungsroman by @wellhalesbells (T, 21k)

Harry finds something he’s been looking for since the war’s end. Admittedly, the packaging’s a bit odder than he expected.

Ink (My Skin With Your Name) by Kandakicksass (M, 22k)

Several years after the war, an ostracized Draco Malfoy covers himself in tattoos, becomes best friends with a muggle, and debates abandoning magical society entirely to work in a tattoo shop. All in all, he's having a hell of a time trying to figure out who he is and what he wants to do with his life. The last thing he needs is to run into Harry Potter, who seems intent on becoming his friend, even if he has to get a lot of ink to do it.

All Bets Are Off by dualwieldteacup (M, 31k)

Harry Potter's latest security assignment brings him to Las Vegas for the International Wizarding Casino World Series. At a magic underwater hotel, he is tasked with guarding the legendary and mysterious gambler known as Snake Eyes. The stakes are high when both Galleons and emotions are involved. Not to mention peacock pool floats, secret pizza, and most importantly of all, second chances.

[stationintern]

Last Line Game!

Thanks for tagging me, @uncannycerulean ! The game is to post the last line of your most recent WIP, and tag a couple folks!

“Pans, do shut up.” Draco says, pouring a cloudy, piss-yellow cocktail methodically into a martini glass. “I’m sure Potter has heard enough grovelling to last a lifetime, and you’re no good at it anyway.”

Id like to tag @teledild0nix @drarry and @nv-md if y’all feel up to it!

[endlessburningdarkness]

What is the with the trend of Harry forgiving people who rape him? it's in harrymort and drarry too? and like without hurting the rapist back at all? why is Harry always turned into this measly desperate cowardly worm of a person that will forgive all abuse as soon as he hears the word love? i feel fucking insane bc everyone else loves it and thinks it soooo romantic and in character?

It's such an insult to Harry. Why does it seem like Harry is hated by his own fandom? and the focus will always be on the rapist and how Harry made their life difficult by not being a totally submissive little slave bitch for them and in the end Harry willingly spreads his legs so his rapist can feel better about raping him, because that's his job i guess.

The saddest thing is these ideas could work so fucking well if Harry was allowed actually get angry, and be angry for longer than a few days. drag that shit out. let him rage. let him hurt the rapist back. if you're trying to convince me the that the rapist regrets hurting Harry, actually let them struggle to win Harry back. For a while! not for a week! let them grovel and beg.

let them asked to be raped back. let them offer to become his slave. let them actually make themselves his slave. let them cut off an arm and leg. let Harry cut off their cocks. let him crucio them. let him nearly kill them. let them kill themselves.

like! put some fucking effort into it! what's the point of creating this massive conflict only to resolve it in five fucking minutes? use your imagination instead of following the victim-forgives-rapist-after-they-say-i-love-you- routine that's been going for on for a million fucking years.

I'm supposed to believe Harry loves someone who raped him and that the rapist loves Harry when said rapist can't take a crucio or a whipping in remorse? Harry? Harry James Potter? The guy who cruciod Amycus for spitting in McGonagall's face?

It could work with some actual fucking anger on Harry's part, but noooo, Harry is so desperate for cock that he'll forgive repeated rape and abuse and degradation after a few mild rebukes! yeah that's Harry James Potter to a fucking tee.

Ultimately what is really annoying is that every other type of abuse will be taken so seriously, Harry's abuse at the Dursley's, Harry being taken advantage of by other people. Harry being expected to save everyone. All these will be explored with gravity and nuance and respect and taken seriously and Harry is encouraged to be angry and upset about them and the very same rapist will fucking point this stuff out to Harry and say how unfair it is for him to go through that.

And then the story says its fine for Harry be raped because he was in love all along lol. The one thing that is consistently brushed off is rape and sexual abuse. I'm not about to pretend this is a coincidence, bc it fucking isn't.

It really gives "men can't be abused" and also "it's fine for Harry to be abused bc he's used to it" and "it's not rape if they say they love you and you orgasmed".

I get that writers don't want to tackle this topic bc its icky and unsexy and gets in the way of the romance and happy ending but this refusal to engage with sexual abuse after introducing it and building it up as a huge plot element with otherwise excellent characterization just feels like it's being used as a quick and easy shock and angst machine. It's weak.

I do be rolling my eyes afterwards i won't lie.

[arkadijxpancakes]

I agree, the conflict between Harry and Ron really isn't resolved. They barely scratch the surface of their conflict, when they "resolve" it. They fix the issue that has bubbled to the surface (Ron's feelings about Hermione), but they don't fix the iceberg underneath. They never do.

There are multiple opportunities for Ron to learn from and overcome his insecurities, but the narrative never really allows him to have lasting character development. Every time one of those conflicts comes up, he starts to have some growth - just to revert to his factory settings (I like how you mentioned this for Percy and I do think, this applies to other characters as well, including Ron), once the inciting incident is dealt with.

It's the same for the conflict between Arthur and Percy. Because, yes, their differing opinions on how to deal with the news about Voldemort did spark their argument, but it isn't really the reason they argued and it's also not the reason Percy went no-contact with his whole family for three fucking years.

So Percy apologizing for being wrong might solve the inciting incident, but it also doesn't solve the conflict underneath. Him fighting Thicknesse also doesn't do that. Because, in the end, the conflict wasn't really about Voldemort being back or about Dumbledore.

It was about their dysfunctional family dynamics (not just between Percy and Arthur, but also between Percy and everyone else). It was about Percy's status as golden child of the family (and how fragile that status really is) and about them not really knowing each another. And it was also about Percy growing into his adult self, while separating who he wants to be from what his parents want him to be. One could also make a point about how this conflict was about their socioeconomic status and the discrimination that came with it. But all of this was completely dropped, after the conflict was introduced in Order of the Phoenix. From that point onwards it's just about Voldemort being back and about Percy being wrong about it.

And the "resolution" in Deathly Hallows treats the conflict as such. Percy stumbles into the situation, apologizes (he's basically groveling), mom and dad hug him, Fred and George make some jokes, the conflict is solved, all is well.(1) And afterward, Percy really does go back to his factory settings.

And it's not just Ron and Percy this is happening to. Rowling seems to have an aversion to writing character development. Harry does grow as a character, but he's basically the only one. She attempts to give Snape some development, but it's mostly of the "and he was good all along!" kind of development, where he doesn't really change at all. Draco starts to become a better person, but she never really commits to a redemption arc (probably, because she hates Drarry shippers...)

(1) Side tangent: I just - once again - realized how fucking Christian the series (especially Deathly Hallows) really is. I wonder if Percy's arc was supposed to be read that way. Him denouncing JesusHarry and leaving his congregationfamily, just to realize the error in his ways to return just in time for the final battle and his congregationfamily welcoming him back with open arms ... There would be no character development needed, after that.

Guys who Cry in the Harry Potter Books (and Why)

Men do 30% of the crying in the Harry Potter books, even though they represent 66% of the characters (and that's pretty much as expected).* I’m interested in why the crying happens though, and what it says about the characters. For the ladies, crying is neutral - they all cry, and for all sorts of reasons (tired, frustrated, stressed, emotionally overwrought...) Bellatrix, Augusta Longbottom, Ginny, Tonks… all cry. *Hermione* cries thirty separate times over the course of the books. 

Male crying though, that's something that gets mocked (usually by Slytherins.) Pansy calls Neville a “fat little cry baby,” and after Rita’s article (falsely) describes Harry crying, Draco comes in with “Want a hanky, Potter, in case you start crying in Transfiguration?” Of course there’s also “D’you think [Hagrid]’ll cry when they cut off his hippogriff’s - ” right before Hermione slaps him. So making fun of guys for crying is bad right? 

Let’s get into it. 

1 : Crying because of a death

The most “acceptable” reason for male crying. This happens a lot, we are definitely not supposed to think any less of the guys who do it. Mostly it happens *right* at the moment of death, or maybe at the funeral. The exception is Harry, who cries in Book 3 after talking about hearing his parents dying (although the narrative voice DOES let us know that he’s kind of embarrassed about this...)

“Harry suddenly realized that there were tears on his face mingling with the sweat. He bent his face as low as possible, wiping them off on his robes, pretending to do up his shoelace, so that Lupin wouldn’t see.” 

Then he cries again in Book 7, while visiting his parents' graves. But it’s definitely still crying over a death. Just one that Harry takes a little bit longer to process. 

Crying over a Death: Full Breakdown: 

Amos Diggory: 1 (Cedric’s death) 

Arthur Weasley: 1 (Fred’s death)

Harry Potter: 3 (Hedwig, Lily, James)

Rubeus Hagrid: 4 (Dumbledore, Buckbeak, Aragog, Harry) 

Argus Filtch: 1 (thinks Mrs. Norris is dead) 

Xenophillius Lovegood: 1 (thinks Luna is dead) 

Fillius Flitwick: (thinks Ginny is dead) 

Ron Weasley: 1 (Dumbledore’s funeral) 

Elphias Doge: 1 (Dumbledore’s funeral

2: Crying because of Pain

You’d think this one would also be acceptable. But… it really isn’t? Dudley cries when Vernon hits him (but Harry doesn’t.) Peter Pettigrew cries when he cuts off his own hand, Saw style, but it gets framed as blubbering weakness. Pettigrew framed SO pathetically for the entire resurrection scene - and honestly, for the entire rest of the series.

(Which is strange when you think about it. Like objectively, Pettigrew did GOOD. Sure he only likes Voldemort because he’s powerful, but so do most of the Death Eaters, that’s nothing special. Peter found Voldemort, resurrected him single-handedly (ha.) Found Bertha Jorkins,  i.e. the reason Voldemort was able to plan his comeback. Obviously he has god-tier bluffing and lying abilities, as well as enough willpower to cut off a limb. Being able to turn into a rat would make him a really useful spy. Also his spell, the one that killed thirteen muggles and destroyed a street? Most magic we see does not have a blast radius like that. Either he’s extremely powerful, or he somehow rigged the whole street up to blow beforehand? Maybe he planted magical bombs everywhere, and triggered them after luring Sirius to the right place. Either way, Peter’s formidable. But somehow his job is to hang out and be Snape’s servant? (Is it because he’s not cute?  Is this JKR’s fatphobia rearing its ugly head? Unclear.)

Our last guy crying in pain is Book 1 Neville, after he breaks his wrist during flying lessons. He also “sniffs,” while walking into the Forbidden Forest for detention, which *might* count as crying? But really, Neville cries surprisingly little. We get a lot of “looked as though he might cry” and “on the verge of tears”... but that's not actually crying. And I think that’s because… early-books Neville, yes we’re supposed to see him as a little pathetic. But definitely not as pathetic as Dudley or Pettigrew. 

3: “Childlike” Crying

Sometimes the people who cry are literally little boys. This is also okay. No one is going to judge infant Harry for crying when Voldemort is in the house, or little Severus for crying when his parents are fighting. Interestingly, when Myrtle is talking about Draco crying in her bathroom, Harry assumes she’s talking about someone much younger: 

“There’s been a boy in here crying?” said Harry curiously. “A young boy?” 

But of course, when an adult is crying in a childlike way, it immediately becomes… pathetic. Again we have Pettigrew, who “burst into tears. It was horrible to watch: He looked like an oversized, balding baby, cowering on the floor.” In the Horcrux cave, crying Dumbledore is described “like a child dying of thirst.” Which is also meant to be pathetic, but in more of a ‘Harry has to be the adult now’ sort of way. Also, the potion seems to have made Dumbledore mentally regress back to his youth, so it’s *closer* to a literal “child crying” moment. 

(I considered putting Dumbledore drinking the potion in the ‘pain’ section, but at least in the book I think it’s clear he’s mostly in emotional rather than physical pain.)

Where this gets messy is with the house-elves. House-elves are not children, but they are presented as childlike. They are small and in-your-face, direct even though their problem-solving tends to be very convoluted/not especially logical. I like the present-tense, no pronouns way they speak, but I can’t deny it is kind of baby-talk adjacent. And… house elves are *really* emotional. Dobby, Kreacher (and Winky) cry a LOT. If I had to guess, I would say JKR likes treating house-elves as childlike so it’s more of a surprise when it turns out that one of them was behind everything. But considering that they are slaves, it is gross considering that one of the main real-world justifications for slavery was ‘slaves are childlike, and unable to take care of themselves.'

There’s also Hagrid. With seventeen separate instances of crying, Hagrid easily cries more than any other guy in the Harry Potter books. And… well… he’s also presented as oddly childlike. He seems much more like Harry and Ron’s contemporary than a peer of the other professors - which is weird, since  if he went to school with Voldemort fifty years ago, he’s in his sixties now. But still, he’s helpless in the face of criticism, he’s comically out of his depth whenever he deals with the Ministry, he’s constantly letting things slip or drastically misjudging danger levels. The first three books use “Hagrid gets in trouble, the gang has to bail him out” as a plot point, and in Book 4 his sideplot with Madame Maxime gets treated like a schoolboy’s first crush, with all these jokes about him wearing suits that don’t quite fit, and trying and failing to style his hair. Not to mention, we know she’s flattering him because she wants insider info on the Tournament. But he doesn’t know that. 

4. Crying because of Sports

Oliver Wood cries when Gryffindor wins the Quidditch cup. That's all.

And that brings us to our stragglers. The only non-childlike guys who cry for reasons other than death, pain, or sports are as follows: 

Harry Potter: 1 instance of crying

Draco Malfoy: 2 instances of crying

Severus Snape: 2 instances of crying

Albus Dumbledore: 4 instances of crying

Horace Slughorn: 1 instance of crying

Let’s see what’s going on here. 

Harry Potter

Dumbledore had weakened himself by drinking that terrible potion for nothing. Harry crumpled the parchment in his hand, and his eyes burned with tears as behind him. Fang began to howl. He clutched the cold locket in his hand so tightly that it hurt, but he could not prevent hot tears spilling from his eyes

There’s a lot going on in this moment: Harry is tired, frustrated, disappointed, overwhelmed. But even though it is a complex moment, probably the main emotion is still Harry’s attempt to process Dumbledore’s death, now that he finally has a second to do so. So this honestly could have gone in the “Crying because of a death” category. It’s just different enough that I want to specially call it out. 

Draco Malfoy

We hear about Draco crying once from Myrtle, and then see it first hand: 

Malfoy was crying — actually crying — tears streaming down his pale face into the grimy basin.

The narrative takes a second to let us know that he was ACTUALLY CRYING, just to hammer in that this is something unexpected and not-normal. I think I want to attribute Draco’s tendency to cry - and cry because he’s overwhelmed, scared, lonely - to the character’s slight femme coding. What can I say, he cries for ""girly"" reasons. And so does Snape!

Severus Snape 

“Snivellus” is clearly a nickname meant to evoke the idea of “crybaby,” since “sniveling” is a synonym for crying. We also get this: 

Snape was kneeling in Sirius’s old bedroom. Tears were dripping from the end of his hooked nose as he read the old letter from Lily. 

Crying over Lily’s letter could count as crying over a death��� but since he’s crying over a letter, not over a grave or her body (like in the movie), I’m going to say that he’s probably crying because of guilt, emotional overload, or love (especially because he rips the ‘love Lily’ off the end of that letter.) Like Draco, Snape might be getting little bit of femme-coding here. He’s the mean-girl type of bully (versus the mean boy) He cries, he threatens to poison people, which is something we only see women (and Draco) actually doing in these books. Idk, he’s an odd one who JKR clearly has very complicated feelings about. 

Albus Dumbledore 

I was actually really surprised that Dumbledore cries as much as he does, and at such unusual times! He cries when he sees Snape’s doe patronus - because of love or just because he’s emotionally overwhelmed. He cries all through the Horcrux cave, primarily because of guilt. He cries twice during the King’s Cross Station vision-quest, once because of his complicated feelings about Harry while he asks for forgiveness, and once over … Grindlewald.

“They say he showed remorse in later years, alone in his cell at Nurmengard. I hope that it is true. I would like to think he did feel the horror and shame of what he had done. Perhaps that lie to Voldemort was his attempt to make amends . . . to prevent Voldemort from taking the Hallow . . .”  “. . . or maybe from breaking into your tomb?” suggested Harry, and Dumbledore dabbed his eyes.

And okay. JKR announced that Dumbledore was gay just a few months after book seven was published, and I think she was folding in deliberate queer-coding as early Book 6. My proof of that is Dumbledore's increased emotionality - as we can see, it’s pretty unusual for men to cry in the Harry Potter books because they’re feeling “softer” emotions like love, regret, stress etc. It’s something she associates with femininity, and I’m sure she associates gay guys with femininity as well (I mean, that’s a very common thing to do.)

There’s also this interesting passage from Book 6: 

This younger Albus Dumbledore’s long hair and beard were auburn. Having reached their side of the street, he strode off along the pavement, drawing many curious glances due to the flamboyantly cut suit of plum velvet that he was wearing. “Nice suit, sir,” said Harry, before he could stop himself, but Dumbledore merely chuckled.

Now, this is subtle. Wizards out and about in the muggle world often wear unusual colors like purple and emerald green. However. That adjective flamboyantly is only used one other time in the entire series, to describe Fudge’s hand gestures. But here, it is used to describe an outfit, a purple velvet suit which is honestly a little bit Oscar Wilde. And “flamboyantly gay” … those are two words often heard together. 

Also, correct me if I’m wrong, but I am pretty sure this is the only opinion about clothing Harry ever expresses aloud. And, I think @niche-pastiche hit the nail right on the head when were talking about this and they said, "'Nice suit, sir,' said Harry, before he could stop himself," is SO the response of a young adhd boy in the early 2000s trying not to say "thats gay." 

Horace Slughorn

Horace Slughorn cries at Aragog’s funeral, not really out of grief for Aragog, but mostly out of a maudlin sense of togetherness, nostalgia, and camaraderie. And… I do think we have one more slightly morally ambiguous femme-coded guy on our hands? Like Dumbledore, Slughorn is very much a flashy dresser, with shiny hair and gold buttons on his waistcoat. He loves treats and candies (hey… so does Dumbledore. They’re the only adults with a sweet tooth like that.) He loves fancy dinner parties, and is well-connected without being ambitious the way Lucius is. He also (like Draco) is aligned with pureblood-supremacy, but hyper avoidant of violence and confrontation. Except for the Harry example, I think I’d be comfortable with calling all of these last few instances “Femme-Coded Crying.” 

* Methodology - My list of 208 Harry Potter characters comes from TV Tropes, which had the most complete list. I am excluding characters from Cursed Child and the Fantastic Beasts Films. 

In order to find instances of crying, I searched for the words “cried/cry/crying” “tears” “sob” and “sniff.” I counted each crying episode as one, even if crying was brought up multiple times throughout the scene. I made the fairest call I could whenever I hit a “the crying intensified” or the “the tears restarted,” but I mostly judge pretty conservatively when I’m ringing up data.

[thusspoketrish]

Showers in the Malfoy-Potter Household

Domestic, tooth-rotting, fluffy Married Drarry!!! Written for the prompt Fresh over at @drarrymicrofic. 2.3K words. Thank you to @curlyy-hair-dont-care for the thorough beta xx

I. That One Time with the Gloves…

“Bugger, I need to shower!” Harry shouts to the empty sitting room as he steps through the Floo, shoulders tense as he kicks off his muddy shoes, waving his wand to send them to the hamper and clearing the residual mess on his and Draco’s Brazilian Macchiato Pecan hardwood floors. On socked feet, Harry dashes up the stairs towards their ensuite, disrobing along the way as the charmed grandfather clock in the downstairs hallway strikes 14:00.

Any minute now, Draco will Floo back in from brunch with Narcissa and Lucius—the very brunch Harry said he couldn’t attend because he pulled Sunday rotation at the Ministry. In truth, he had actually signed up for THE GREATEST WEEKEND QUIDDITCH MATCH EVER!!! between the Department of Mysteries and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Harry had been surprised to learn that the DoM swots were a bunch of dirty playing wankers—their self-important swagger causing a stir on the ground and a gloriously brutal match in the air. Harry’s pretty sure he bruised his ribs when he struck the muddy ground at the end of the match. But even with his injury, Harry couldn’t help the wicked grin that crossed his face when Timmons, the DoM’s Seeker, watched in horror as Harry staggered to his feet, punching his Snitch-full fist triumphantly into the air.

The glory. The power. Harry feels like a warrior—he feels like a bloody beast!

The little white lie and a skipped brunch with the in-laws were worth it!

Once in the bathroom, Harry uses his wand to send his scattered muddy clothes to the hamper downstairs and turns the water on scorching hot. Stepping under the spray, his sore muscles relax. It’s absolutely blissful, and he can’t help the happy moans that escape him as the water sluices away the mud and sweat from his highly earned, brutal win. He chuckles darkly to himself. Those wankers from the DoM will be sucking on this one for months to come.

The shower curtain is pulled to the side, starling Harry so badly that he nearly slips, his head whipping around to face his smirking husband.

Draco sticks his head into the shower, making sure to avoid the stream, his eyes flashing. “Well, well, well. Look who’s getting so fresh and so clean after a hard day’s work.”

Harry huffs, covering his nipples with both hands as he says, scandalised, “Merlin! You scared the bloody hell out of me!”

“I’m sorry,” Draco says, sounding far from it. “I was so eager to see my husband after a lengthy morning away from him that all I could think about coming up the stairs was giving him the best shower blowie he’s ever had in his entire life…”

Harry grins. “Babe, I’ve missed you so much,” he says eagerly, stepping back under the spray. “Come on, get undressed and join me.” When Draco doesn’t move, Harry gestures inward. “Come on...come now…”

“Yeah, okay. Let me just…” Draco pulls from behind his back Harry’s dirty Quidditch gloves, dropping them into the shower as Harry gasps. The fresh dirt mingles with the water, swirling down the drain. Harry could’ve sworn he sent those gloves flying into the hamper.

Draco’s smile is shark-like, eager, and ready for blood. “Imagine my surprise when these came flying into my chest on my way up the stairs. I was so curious, I decided to have a quick search of the laundry room hamper, and lo and behold, I found all of your Quidditch gear, sweaty and smelling of fresh mud and grass, darling. Must’ve been one hell of a rotation this morning, huh?”

Harry holds up his hands. “I can explain—”

“Oh, really?”

“Er, yes…” Harry starts, running a hand through his soaked hair. “Babe, it’s those wankers from the DoM’s fault! They’re a bunch of posturing arseholes and someone had to put them in their place.”

Draco crosses his arms against his chest. “Ah, right. And that someone had to be you?”

Harry smiles sheepishly, shrugging. “Well…you know I’m the best Seeker in the Corps.”

Draco harrumphs, tilting his chin up and leaning against the wall next to the shower. “So, you know what this means, right?”

Harry bows his head. “Yeah…” he says sadly, shaking his head.

“What?”

Harry sighs. “No more Mimosa Sundays at Malfoy Manor?” he asks hopefully, peeking up at Draco through his wet, shaggy hair.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You know the mimosas at my parents' are bar none.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know…so, no blowie for me?”

“You’re damn right,” Draco says, yanking his head back and sharply pulling the shower curtain shut.

Harry grumbles to himself, turning back to the shower to rinse his hair. A minute or two passes before the shower curtain opens up again, a fully naked Draco stepping inside.

“But that doesn’t mean you can’t start grovelling the proper way: by sucking my cock,” Draco says with a smirk.

Harry laughs, wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist. “How did I land such a deeply compassionate, forgiving husband?”

“With that sinful mouth of yours, obviously,” Draco drawls, placing his hands on Harry’s shoulders to slowly push him down onto his knees.

II. That One Time Draco Was Trying to be Seductive...

Harry’s entering their bedroom, half an egg mayo sandwich in hand, when he notices Draco standing before the wardrobe mirror. “What are you doing?” he asks, pausing near the door.

Draco turns around, his arms spreading wide as he pops one narrow hip outward. He’s draped in an intricate floral-patterned gold bathrobe. “Do you like it? It’s new, darling. Just arrived from Italy. Rocco-inspired, heavy-weight close-knit silk lined with black satin…isn’t it gorgeous?” Draco purrs.

“Er…it’s quite something,” Harry says, biting into his sandwich.

“Neanderthal,” Draco tuts with a scowl before turning back to the mirror. He slides his hands reverently down the sides of his body as he tilts his head to the side. “It feels like fucking sex,” Draco whispers, his eyelids drooping.

Harry chokes on a bit of egg. Draco grins, ferally, as he faces Harry again.

“I have a surprise for you. Get undressed and meet me in the bathroom,” Draco says imperiously.

“Right now?” Harry asks around his sandwich, his eyebrows shooting up towards his hairline. “Why?”

Draco runs his hands down the front of his bathrobe, his eyes fluttering shut. “The things I’m going to do to you the moment you slip this robe off my body…”

That’s all Harry needs to hear as he sets his sandwich down on the nightstand to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor before levelling Draco with a heated stare and a wolfish grin. “Is that right? Well, go on, then. I’ll meet you there in a minute,” Harry says, now unbuttoning his trousers. When Draco heads towards the bathroom, Harry picks his sandwich back up and shoves the rest of it in his mouth before getting undressed.

When he’s fully naked, he opens the bathroom door, the entire room filled with fragrant steam so thick he can barely see Draco.

“Er?” Harry says, stepping into the bathroom. Draco stumbles forward, wand in hand.

“I think I may have overdone the steam a bit,” Draco says before promptly pitching forward. Harry misses him by just an inch because he can’t bloody see, and Draco lands face first on their tiled floor.

“I thought it would be sexy,” Draco whines from his position on the floor in Harry’s lap after Harry Rennervates him. There’s a red patch on his forehead and a trickle of blood coming out of his left nostril that Harry cleans up immediately.

“You were! You were so sexy,” Harry urges softly.

“But there was no arse groping. No kissing. No fucking. It was all so unpleasant!” Draco cries.

“Aw, babe. I’m sorry. I think we should take you to St Mungo’s just in case…”

Draco sighs, sitting up but swaying slightly. “Fine. Alright. But let’s not tell them the visit is due to my failed attempt at seduction.”

Harry stifles a laugh. “Of course not. C’mere,” he says, helping Draco to his feet. “You can seduce me after the Healer has ruled out a concussion, okay?”

“Okay. But only if you promise to take my new bathrobe off with your teeth later…”

III. That One Time with the Mongrel…

Draco’s writing out a pros and cons list to determine if they’ll be purchasing a cottage in Cornwall this summer when Harry appears in front of him, a black towel cradled against his chest that’s moving.

Draco quirks an eyebrow. “What in the fresh hell is wrong with that towel?”

Harry chuckles and pulls the towel back. Pressed against his chest is a tiny, muddy little Beagle.

“No,” Draco says firmly, setting his quill down.

“Wait! Don’t be so quick about it! C’mon, babe, she was all alone in the alley by the Ministry! No mum or dad in sight. I couldn’t leave her there!”

Draco closes his eyes against the utterly heartbroken look in Harry’s eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Of course, Harry would bring home an orphan, Draco had been preparing himself for this day since they married four years ago, only, he thought said orphan would be a wee babe, not a filthy mongrel. He exhales, nods, and opens his eyes, hand dropping away from his face. “Okay. Well. I refuse to have this mongrel in our house looking and smelling the way it does.”

Harry’s face lights up as if Draco has promised him the moon, and the stars, and all the love in his entire being. All over again.

“So, can we keep her?” Harry asks excitedly.

“Yes, Harry. We can keep her.”

Harry surges forward to press a kiss against Draco’s mouth, taking Draco off guard but aiming perfectly, nonetheless. Draco can’t help the laugh that bubbles up his throat as Harry begins to litter kisses all over his face, the mongrel caught between them. “You’re going to love her, I promise. Just look at her! She’s bloody adorable, isn’t she?” Harry says, holding the beast out to Draco.

Draco’s nose scrunches up as the dark-eyed creature stares up at him. She’s so small she could fit in Draco’s cupped hands, but her smell is atrocious. “Sure…” Draco says slowly, leaning away.

Harry hums happily. “I think we should name her—”

“—Beasty,” Draco interrupts, gaze flickering up to Harry. Harry rolls his eyes.

“No, silly! We should name her Pepper. Because she sorta smells like black pepper.”

Draco wants to suggest to Harry that perhaps they need to visit St Mungo’s to get his nose examined, because the last time Draco checked, black pepper smelled absolutely nothing like faeces. But he refrains, the joyous look on Harry’s face well worth going along with the madness.

“Sure, darling, whatever you want. Pepper it is. But she’s going to need a bath.”

Harry nods. “Right, yes, let’s take her upstairs to our bathroom.”

Draco smiles tightly. “Ah, no. I just had that tub put in. I don’t want this mong—Pepper staining the porcelain.”

“Oh, right, right. Okay, well, we can bathe her in the tub down here.”

Draco links his fingers together over his list. “Yes, excellent idea. So,” he starts, eyeing the now droopy-eyed, stinky monster. “Should we use a Petrificus Totalus or—?”

“DRACO!” Harry gasps, looking completely horrified. “We can’t put Pepper in a full body bind, are you insane? She’s a puppy!”

Draco frowns, his eyebrows knitting together. “She’s covered in grime and you expect me to manoeuvre this beast into the tub with its full cooperation?”

Harry glares at him. “She’s the sweetest thing, and I’m sure we won’t have any problems getting her into the bath, okay? Just follow my lead.”

Draco shrugs. Harry hasn’t led him astray yet.

When they finally enter the downstairs bathroom, tub now full of water at the perfect temperature and a mild soap, Draco suddenly gets an armful of Pepper as Harry begins to shed his jacket and jumper.

Draco stares down at her.

She is quite cute, with her large, bulbous black eyes, long, floppy ears, and wee-frowny mouth. Draco believes he can actually come to love this gross little beasty.

“Let’s get you all fresh and clean, sweetie,” Harry says, taking her back from Draco to place her in the water.

That’s when all hell breaks loose.

As Harry struggles to keep a hold on her, Pepper lifts her paws away from the water as if it’s fire, wild yelps escaping her as she struggles out of Harry’s grasp, dropping into the water first before lunging straight at Draco.

Draco catches her, her tiny little body soaking through his very nice, very clean jumper.

“Fucking fuck, fuck…” Draco mutters, staring down at Pepper, warmth exploding in his chest. She’s shivering against him and the anger and shock immediately leave his body as he cradles her, a defeated groan escaping him as a section of his heart unlocks and opens up to this little beasty.

Harry laughs. “Merlin, you are just so bloody adorable,” he says.

Draco scoffs, even as he stares down fondly at her, rocking her in his arms. “She’s a menace, that’s what she is.”

“No…I mean you,” Harry says, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses, cheeks dimpled. Draco can feel the heat of a blush spilling across his cheeks as Harry leans forward to kiss him. When they part, Harry glances down at Pepper before meeting Draco’s eyes.

“We’re building our little family,” Harry says proudly.

Draco opens his mouth to say something mocking, but can’t, not with the ball of emotion that’s suddenly lodged in his throat. Instead, he blinks several times, glancing down at Pepper who’s staring up at him with her large eyes, tail wagging.

“Oh,” Draco says softly. “I suppose we are.” He sniffs. “I think it’s best if we get Beasty Pepper to the vet instead, maybe they can help us give her a proper bath. Shall we?”

Draco smiles as Harry drapes an arm around his shoulders. “Yes, let’s do it, babe,” Harry responds tenderly.

[peachbabypie]

Second Chances — a Drarry AU

This is my: Dark-ish!Powerful!Harry, Prostitute!Scarred!Draco, Voldemort won the war AU.

Draco’s heart broke when he realized Harry wasn’t waking up during the final battle and tried to kill Voldemort himself and is cursed into slavery as punishment. Harry returns, after missing or 7 years to find the Wizarding World so much different than when he left it.

The room was heavy with incense. Harry could feel it enter into his lungs and flood his bloodstream. It sent his heart racing as he felt a heat begin to spread across his body. Draco turned, leading him gently into the foggy room, laced in silks and false opulence. Despite the horrors that this room represented, he seemed to glow amongst it. An angel locked away in a false paradise.

“It’s an aphrodisiac,” he casually responded mobbing Harry towards the large 4 poster bed. He stopped short of it and stilled, taking a moment to wave his hands across his body, gesturing at the white hot scars riddling his pale alabaster skin. His eyes twinkled in mirth and self-disgust.

“You know, in case this was too unattractive.”

Harry swallowed, stepping closer to Draco’s warm body. He gripped his chin and lifted his head, forcing his steel grey eyes to look into his. He was going to kill them all. Every last Death Eater that hurt Draco. Every last bastard that raped him, marked him, made him cry. He was going to rip the heart out of the monster who ruined him.

Shaking his head, his hand gentles as he caresses the scar across his cheek. Barely a whisper. “You’re bloody fucking beautiful.”

Harry said it with such certainty. Oh, how long had it been since there were any words of affection whispered to him. His mother was long dead and his father most likely still groveling at the Dark Lord’s feet. Draco hadn’t known genuine affection for a long, long while.

He could feel the hot tears begin to trickle out of the corner of eyes. His cheeks stung. It had been years since he cried. He thought his heart had dried out and his eyes too tired to give him another tear. How pitiful of him. The once haughty little Malfoy heir, so broken and hurt that the simple words of the once-Savior would render him a wet mess. With a soft whisper, filled with desperation. Draco gripped the edges of Harry’s thick cloak, pressing himself against his broad body, so different from when they were children.

“Then please Harry,” Draco begged, “Please, fuck me.”

[lostdrarryfics]

hi, i'm looking for a post-hogwarts mpreg fic where drarry have been messing around and draco gets pregnant, but harry's a massive dick about it. i know, this could be a number of fics, but in this one draco has a difficult pregnancy and a great doctor, and after harry denies any claim he might have on the baby because he doesn't believe draco, draco, his doctor, and his doctor's family all move to new zealand together because draco needs the distance. eventually draco heals and harry grovels for forgiveness. that's about all i remember, sorry.

even if this one doesn’t get found, thanks for everything you do!

We believe you are looking for To Recognise a Golden Moment (85k, G) by la_choo!

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[lunar-serpentinite]

right 😭 it's not like harry walked in there thinking "ah yes i will painfully maim or at least murder malfoy this fine evening"

"he shldve known not to use spells he didnt know the effects of" are we really expecting harry to think logically 24/7, 365 days ? 'let characters have flaws' until said flaws maim small uwu helpless no choice baby, i guess

but yes harry rlly shldnt be the only one expected to apologise bc draco has done him continuously dirty for years and, like it or not, the bullying isnt ans shldnt immediately be cancelled out by the bathroom scene 🙅🙅🙅

drarry have such an interesting and complex and charged dynamic w a long road ahead for healing, let's not flatten them down to 'harry did bad so harry shld grovel at draco's feet' bc wtf lmao

my main critique about drarry (this isn't rlly drarry slander its more of the interpretations im seeing of them) is how harry is expected to just "get over" draco bullying him.

as someone who lost a family member and had people make fun of that and say i was the reason, the fact that draco did that to harry just isn't in my mind something harry could so easily look over.

if written right, draco redemption is nice, but why are we acting like it's harry who owes draco an apology 😭

[mfingenius]

your writing is so cutejshdhdnd I CANT. if you have the time could you please write some pure drarry fluff? just maybe one of them having a busy day and coming home to the other to be pampered, or one waking up sick and grumpy and again being pampered by the other

When the door slams, Draco takes a cucumber slice off one of his eyes and opens it, looking at Harry; surely enough, he’s taking his boots and auror robes off, all while muttering angrily about paperwork and ‘useless rules’.

“Hard day?” Draco asks; he’d had an odd day off from his work, and he’s been lounging around in a bathrobe and with different face masks all day, making sure to be as relaxed and pampered as possible. His bunny slippers compliment him when he walks.

“Yes,” Harry says, sighing loudly. He looks at Draco, and the frown disappears from his face, immediately replaced by a fond grin. “Yours?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” Draco deadpans, taking his feet off the arm of the couch and taking off the other cucumber slice from his eye. He stands up, and, immediately, his slippers begin complimenting him; he ignores them as he walks over to Harry. “Want to talk about it?”

Harry slips his arms around his waist, pressing kisses to his lips. “No.”

Draco wraps his arms around Harry’s shoulders, enjoying the feel of the soft fabric of Harry’s soft jumper against his skin.

“Want me to pamper you?” he asks, rubbing their noses together, even if it’ll ruin his face mask; Harry is worth ruining his face mask for. “I have face masks, hair masks - although I don’t want to waste those on your bird’s nest - scented oils, and a matching bathrobe.”

Usually, Harry doesn’t agree; he says having stuff sticking to his skin isn’t in any way relaxing, even if Draco has told him, multiple times, that it is. Draco is fully ready for Harry to turn the offer down, and then he’ll offer to cook Harry’s favorite dinner, ruin it - he has no idea how to work their kitchen - and end up ordering tiramisu from the place around the corner that Harry will want to eat while cuddling in bed.

It’s somewhat of a routine.

He’s shocked when Harry mutters a muffled yes against his skin.

He pulls back, looking at Harry incredulously, who flushes a little and shrugs.

“You’ve been trying to get me to do it for years,” he says. “And if I ever needed to relax, it’s now.”

Draco raises an eyebrow. “There was a murder attempt against you at Hogwarts every single year.”

“This is more stressful.” Harry pouts.

Draco laughs, and then presses another kiss against his lips.

*

“What did I tell you?” Draco asks, too relaxed to be smug.

“I should’ve listened to you sooner,” Harry says vehemently. “I would’ve proposed on the spot.”

Draco snorts; he’d drawn a bubble bath with scented oils and salts first, and after he’d managed to convince Harry to get in - he has something against baths, which Draco usually finds amusing but not when he’s trying to get his husband to relax, damn it - he’d really started to work on relaxing Harry.

He’d massaged him, kissed him, and whispered every sweet thing he could think of; afterwards, they’d each gotten into warm, fluffy dry bathrobes, and Harry had let Draco shave him - while Draco loves Harry’s beard, it makes applying a face mask harder, and nothing should be harder today - and apply a hydrating pomegranate face mask. 

Now, they’re both sitting on their couch with their legs up, eating out of matching ice cream bowls with Draco’s oil diffuser making the apartment smell like lavender.

“Maybe you should propose to me again,” Draco says, taking a spoonful of ice cream. “To show proper gratitude, I mean.”

It’s Harry who snorts now. “Marry me, Draco Malfoy.”

“Romantic, Potter,” Draco rolls his eyes. “I remember there being a lot more groveling the first time.”

Harry laughs, setting his ice cream bowl aside. “I didn’t grovel. You said yes before I’d finished asking the question!”

“Because you’d been talking for like an hour about how great I was!”

“Oh, like you didn’t love it.”

“I did,” Draco admits, too soft to pretend he didn’t. “So much.”

Harry’s smile softens. “I know.”

Draco feels his love for him filling his chest, and he rolls his eyes and sets down his own bowl of ice cream.

“Come on, Potter,” he says. “Snog me. I’ve been missing you all day.”

Harry laughs and drags Draco closer by his robe. “How could I say no to that?”

-----------------------------------------------------------

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[bacchanta]

Hanahaki byou but it’s Drarry

I’m sure it’s been done a million times, but imagine Drarry where Draco gets this flower gagging disease.

This trope is (of course) a catalyst for romantic plot development, but HP is one of those fictional worlds where it can have a coherent explanation, because magic. Maybe it is an ancient form of curse that only exists as a myth, its details long lost to modern day wizarding world, but samples of flower trees with an anthropomorphic origin actually last through centuries and one or two of them manage to get into Hogwarts and into the herbology or potions class.

And one day, maybe yet another stupid quarrel with Potter ended up with Draco tripping over some containers, the unknown content of which he happens to inhale by accident. This at first only leads to occasional coughs, which no one pays attention to. But a week is alarmingly long for just about any type of cough to persist, so Draco goes to Mme Pumfrey for a vial of medicine. It seems to get better at first, but it never really disappears.

When Draco realizes that this cough is somehow correlate with the presence of Potter, he becomes terrified and buries himself in the library to find reference to diseases or curses that may be triggered by enmity. But most authors only jokingly refer to the flower-gagging-because-of-pining as a kind of ancient myth that their book is set to disprove; they believe that only negative emotions have pathological manifestations, and that any disease as such is definitely caused by anything but love.

And, just as he browses past that specific phrase, the cough suddenly worsens as if something tiny and thin is stuck to his throat and needs to be shaken out. A few seconds later, Draco Malfoy stares at the flame-coloured, bright petals, scattered all over the black fabric of his robe like the flaming feathers of a phoenix, in utter dread.

Meanwhile Harry has noticed Draco’s change in behaviour - instead of picking fights all the time, he starts to shun him. If they have to be in the same space, Draco stays as far away as possible. Harry thought it was just a change in Draco’s way of expressing antagonism, but he felt more than a bit insulted when, once at class, he had to get pass Draco’s desk to get the materials, Draco actually grovels and twitches as if he’s about to throw up. Yes - they are on less than friendly terms since the first time they met, that they can at least agree on - but is it really necessary? To act all histrionic and pretend that Harry’s so disgusting that he causes someone to literally throw up?

But it’s probably not all performance out of spite - Harry realizes that when Slytherins have to call off the first match of the year with Gryffindor because their seeker is too sick to compete.

Draco does not believe it’s the flower-gagging disease - it’s a myth, it doesn’t exist, and he is not in love with anyone. He wants to go to Snape for help (I see no reason not to bring all characters back because it’s supposed to be a light-hearted one); he wants to ask if the flower-gagging disease is real, but decides that Snape is probably the last person on earth who will believe such thing as a love disease. More likely, it is some kind of jinx - gagging flowers is not that different from gagging slugs, and what caused by magic can be solved by magic, no need to get this ‘love’ involved.

But perhaps it gets so serious that one day a Slytherin nearly slips over in the boys’ washroom and finds that the floor of the nearest locked cubicle is buried in flame-coloured, long and narrow flower petals, while the person behind the door is coughing and clearly in pain.

And that’s how the entire Slytherin common room learns about Draco Malfoy’s mysterious disease. Without Snape knowing it (upon Draco’s request), his friends try to find a way to undo any potential spell casted on him, but of course it doesn’t work. Eventually someone (probably Pansy or Blaise or Daphne) suggests that the mythical flower-gagging disease may be real, so they ask Draco if he does have feelings for someone, a possibility fervently denied by Draco (while coughing and gagging more flowers).

Nevertheless, they starts to observe with cautious scepticism. Eventually someone points out that Draco started to cough right after that fight with Potter. On her first instinct, Pansy accuses Harry of casting a malicious spell on Draco, which breaks school rule and has been causing him pain for months. Harry, of course, denies the accusation but admits that he notices Draco’s weird behaviour earlier, and that he thought it was one of Draco’s antics.

So, unable to explain or deny his own involvement in the mysterious disease affecting Draco, Harry offers to help find the cause. It starts off as a secret and he thinks that his name will be cleared before he tells Ron or Hermione.

Interestingly enough, it takes a few more weeks for both Harry and Draco to realize that the coughing desists as they spend more time together. By that time Harry has heard from Hermione about the myth of the flower-gagging disease and asked Draco about the possibility, which Draco furiously denied, saying that he cannot be in love with anyone if he himself doesn’t even know, which seems genuine to Harry.

_____________________________

It’s late and I need to go to bed but hopefully I’ll figure out how to finish this not-quite-a-story.

[shanastoryteller]

I need to ask this cuz I'm frustrated. I adore the potential Draco as a character has (also Narcissa et al. & Slytherins in general) , but aside from your stories & a few of Lomonaaeren's like Narcissa Militant series, it's difficult to find good HP fics. Like, e.g. the fics claim to be Draco fics, but it's more like stealth bashing where the Drarry serves to humiliate & make Draco grovel to "the light side". Your fics not only have good characterization, but also awesome world building at (1/2)

(2/2) times better than canon. So maybe you can rec some authors or stories that you like, that mesh well with your headcanons etc? Please? 🙏 TY! ❤️💐

thank you!! but uh, man, astolat’s fics are some of my favorite for hp (also a big fan of lomonaaeren’s) but for good draco in fics it’s kinda hard to find. i remember sara’s girl’s fics being good too, but i haven’t read them in a while. 

does anyone else have any recs?

[runsquidling]

I really need a new ship with big teenage rivalry history and literary foil vibes, because way too much Drarry has "Draco did nothing wrong" in it and my god am I out of patience with "the war ended years ago why are you still holding a grudge"

because he was a full-on marked fascist who never repented? Show me the penance and I'll follow you but if all you give me is "it was years ago and I was a teenager" I'm not coming. That's not good enough, my dude. Losing the war does not get you off the hook for choosing the wrong side. Teenagers are old enough to be held responsible for their own ideology. Give me penitant groveling or give me a new ship.

[fleetofshippyships-archive]

Gay

I actually didn’t think I’d have this in a wip, I don’t often explicitly state sexualities, but here it is!

This is from the mess that is PIH (Drarry, 124k) 

Excerpt below the cut

“Take the papers home and take a look,” Archie said, pushing a drink at him. “And take pity on the poor boy and give him another go? He’s not had much success since you.”

Draco fixed him with a serious look. “I’m not interested in a pity fuck with anyone, least of all Harry Fucking Potter. He’s not entitled to anything from me.”

Archie sighed and then drifted off to serve someone else. Draco scowled after him then groaned as Potter took the stool next to him.

“Quit stalking me!” he snapped. “I thought you’d kicked that habit after sixth year.”

“Sorry state of the world is that you, in all your dickishness, are still better company than all the twats in this place,” Potter said, not looking put off at all, although his shoulders had tensed at Draco’s words.

Draco felt satisfied by that. Aroused by that. He knew he was better. Those men softened Potter’s cock and failed to get it hard again. Potter had come four times in his flat. With ease.

But it had been nothing.

“Look, Potter,” he said seriously, leaning closer. “You devalued your virginity when you decided to get rid of it with someone you don’t like. You can’t reverse that. It was a casual fuck. We both got off. It meant nothing to me. You’re a notch in my bedpost, as it were. If this is some attempt to—”

“Bloody hell, you have a high opinion of yourself,” Potter interrupted, looking amused. “I thought you’d learned to hide that better by now. I’m not trying to get back in your pants. I’m not chasing after you. I just want a drink, and if I’m sitting by you then all those grovelling twats back off for a while.”

Draco blinked at him. He couldn't tell if he was lying or not. That was unusual. “How...self serving of you,” he said, thinking. He hadn’t seen anyone he fancied a go with. If Potter could keep it casual then…

Potter was looking at the papers by Draco’s elbow and Draco quickly snatched them up.

“You’re investing? In a club?” Potter sounded surprised. “Bit beneath the Malfoy Estate, isn’t it?”

“Piss off!”

Potter’s eyes darted over him and then out around the room again. “Might do, actually,” he said with a sigh. “No luck tonight. There’s got to be at least one other gay bloke out there that doesn’t want to worship the ground I walk on.”

Draco snorted. “Good luck with that. The world is full of delusional idiots.”

Without another word, he strode to one of the Apparition points and left.

(Send me an ask with one word, any word. If any of my unpublished wips for this account have that word in them, I’ll post a snippet containing that word! And if not, I may try and write a wee drabble/headcanon with it?)