#maybe i will draw some little scenes like i did with drarry

[black-leather-sketchbook]

[lqtraintracks]

Smut Snippets

Drarry Edition

I was tagged by some truly exceptional people: @kbrick @skeptiquewrites @sitp-recs thank you all so much! I’ll go ahead and tag some folx too. How about @nv-md @the-starryknight @ruinsplume @corvuscrowned @pennygalleon @maesterchill @onbeinganangel @magpiefngrl and @moonflower-rose

As you can maybe imagine, this was hard for me. :sweat_smiley: I tried not to overthink it too much. I couldn’t go back in my brain over 300 fics, so I just let them come to me and picked a few I knew I really loved writing the smut for (though many have multiple sex scenes and I had to choose just one from each). 

Wonderful Electric (cover me in you) (content: a wee bit of piss kink--ha ha!)

One time after he’s fucked me so well I can hardly walk, Potter’s at a urinal, pissing, and he’s going like he’s been holding it all day or something. I must make a small sound of amusement, because he flinches. I don’t know what comes over me then, but I move closer.

“Does it feel good?” I ask him. I use a soft voice, a calming one. It’s instinct. Even my body’s moving more slowly. I face his tense profile. His breath comes out all shivery. His stream slows, then starts again. “Mm, is that good?” I ask again.

And: Potter nods.

“Yeah?” I come even closer. I lift my hand, stroke my fingers through his hair. He groans. “That’s it, Potter,” I tell him. “Let it go.”

Good Boy (content: trans man Draco; werewolf Harry)

“Harry,” I said again. “Down.”

At this, he whimpered slightly. He withdrew his claws from the bars and sat on his haunches instead.

“Good boy,” I said. Then I drew my t-shirt up and off.

He got up and began pacing his cage, his gaze darting to me frequently. He’d walk on his hind legs only to drop down to all four, then back up again, as if unsure what to be.

I slipped my running shorts down and off, my pulse throbbing mercilessly through my limbs. I left my boxer briefs on as I came a little closer. Harry whined, panted, came at the bars again. But when I stopped walking, he whimpered and went back to pacing his cage instead, face always turned towards me.

He made a beautiful animal, and yet I saw him in the eyes… the intelligence, the way he was attempting to keep control of himself.

Merlin help me, I wanted him to lose it instead.

“Sit,” I commanded when I got close.

Restlessly, he obeyed. He huffed, howled a little, but it turned into a whine of protest instead. I smiled at him. I wanted to stroke my hands over his head, to bury my face in the fur of his neck.

I dipped my hand into my underwear, trailed my fingers through the wet, and then brought them to cage. He sniffed the air for the briefest of seconds and then lapped hungrily through the bars. His tongue was large and so warm and wet, his hard breaths bathing my hand as he eagerly licked my fingers clean.

“You like that?” I asked. I sank my hand into my shorts again and brought him more.

Heart Like Neon (content: sex worker Harry; some exhibitionism, between them, not other people)

Potter makes a little noise in his throat now.

“What is it?”

Potter looks at him across the space of half a pillow and says, “Your come is leaking out of me.” Then, “Do you want to see it?”

And with that, Draco’s refractory period is well and done. He goes so hard, so fast it’s both an ache and a sting through his entire body.

“Go on,” Potter says, drawing a leg up and hooking his arm beneath his knee.

This must be how fourteen year-old straight boys feel when a girl randomly provides visual access to her fanny just for the thrill of it. Potter looks perfectly comfortable lying there, not like he’s debasing himself at all. Not even like it’s all that dirty of them.

Draco moves down the bed enough that he can get a look. All his breath leaves him at the sight of it, the slow, shiny drip. He did that.

Bolts (content: some angst; teasing--like with sex, not bullying)

Draco blinks at him, feels the hot onslaught of shame seeping over him… that perhaps Potter doesn’t want it as badly as he does, hasn’t been in the same agony over it for weeks and weeks now. His cheeks flush with something other than arousal. He drops his hand away, turns slightly, affects a bitter laugh. “I wasn’t going to let you come, you idiot. I was bored tonight. I just meant to toy with you a bit, that’s all.”

His cheeks are on absolute fire at the lie. He doesn’t know how far he would have gone, but… he can��t say definitively. And that is bloody terrifying. That he might throw his whole life away. For this.

Humiliated, he digs deep inside himself and pulls up that blasé persona. But before it can solidify, before he can walk away, Potter grabs him by the hand. Draco tenses as Potter pulls him close again, puts Draco’s hand back on his own cock, looks into Draco’s eyes as he wraps Draco’s fingers tight around, his breath hitching, and he says, “Toy with me then.”

Blood and Fire (content: past relationship; getting back together--yes, I had to do the shirt scene)

Draco slowly stepped into the room, his gaze not quite calm. Almost. But not quite. Because something inside him simmered.

He swished his wand, and the door shut. Another flick, and it locked. Harry swallowed.

Draco took three leisurely steps closer, though it didn't feel at all relaxed. Harry felt like he was being stalked. The fine hairs along his arms leapt to attention.

Draco's gaze flicked down his body and back up. He huffed a bemused breath. "I've fucked you in that shirt."

The words, said softly, exploded into the air. Harry suppressed a gasp — that he'd said it, it had been acknowledged. The thing that was constantly pulsing there between them.

Draco hadn't forgotten. Maybe any of it.

Mens Rea (content: dirty talk; established relationship; reverse cowboy to start)

“Tell me,” I say.

Harry grunts a little. Then, a low breath, “You’ve got such a pretty pussy.”

My eyes roll closed, a soft frown of arousal settling on my face. My dick is getting hard again and starting to bounce as I go on him a little faster.

“Love to fuck your hot cunt.” Harry saying these things to me is everything. He could probably talk me into coming.

I take him, and he takes me, rough and so sweet. The noises we make verge on obscene. No, there is no verging. We are obscenity together.

There’s a thump, thump, thump from the floor, my downstairs neighbours banging on their ceiling with a broom handle.

I laugh and look over my shoulder at him. Glimmering with the lovely danger of it, I smack my arse down on him. The bed bounces; the headboard slams the wall; our voices start to crescendo.

“Wait,” he grits out.

I slow down, do him gently, my mouth fallen open on the seductive burn of it inside me.

“Draco.”

“Yes, love.”

“Come here.”

He sits up, and I come off his cock. He moves onto his knees, his arse on his heels, and he beckons me. I straddle him again, and this time I’m looking him in the eye as he fits himself inside me again.

And if the neighbours thought we were loud before…

The Only Magic Left Between Us (content: arranged/cursed marriage; they’re so sweet here; I wanted to do a scene featuring Draco’s small cock, because I love it, but this one jumped out at me instead)

Words abandon him. Because Draco’s halfway between the bathroom and his bedroom, clad only in a towel slung around his hips, still dripping. He stops, like a deer in the road, and looks at Harry.

Harry looks back. He can’t stop looking back. He blinks, breathless. “Merlin,” he says, “my husband is hot.”

The shock of it lands; Harry sees it land. He waves a hand at the hob, turning the heat off and throwing a stasis on. He never did actually promise to pretend like Draco wanted. He hasn’t been at all sure he could. He definitely can’t like this. He walks down the hall, meets a stunned Draco there, backs him into the wall, not yet touching him but burning to.

“Is it so awful," he asks, "that I want you?”

“Yes,” Draco says, though he’s not moving away.

“Why?”

Draco places his hands on Harry’s hips and moves him just an inch closer. Harry’s body brushes Draco’s, though he plants his hands on the wall rather than touch him. He’s gone if he touches him.

“I don’t think we should confuse things.”

“I’m not confused about this part.”

Draco looks down at how Harry’s cock is tenting his joggers. “I see that.”

“There’s no spell this time. There’s no alcohol,” Harry says, letting his erection brush up against Draco’s towel.

“That’s the problem.” But Draco’s hands have slipped into the gaping part of Harry’s vest, up his sides, under his arms, his thumbs finding and brushing over Harry’s nipples once.

“Why is this a problem?”

“It just is,” Draco says. Then, “Fuck, I can’t think.”

“Stop thinking. Come to bed with me.”

“I can’t. I’m married,” Draco says.

When Harry’s head clears enough to process the words, he leans back just enough to look into Draco’s eyes. “Was that a joke?”

Draco smiles, nods.

Harry grabs him up hard, surprising a laugh out of him, and he carries Draco down the hall.

Phoenix in the Fire (content: professors Drarry; I’ve cursed Draco again lol; angry sex)

Draco turns to him now, eyes burning. “The name Malfoy may mean less than nothing to you. I don’t honestly know what it means to me anymore, either, but… It’s who I’ve been my whole life. For better or worse, it’s who I am.”

“This is who you are!” Harry says, surprised to find himself shouting about it.

Draco smiles at him unkindly. “I envy your naivete.”

“I envy your fucking self-pity,” Harry spits back.

“Is that a no then, on the torrid affair?”

They stare at each other across the room, and Harry wants him so badly he could light something on fire.

“I’m going to get you out of this,” Harry says.

“You won’t.”

Harry grits his teeth around the feeling and the words. “Merlin, you’re such a complete arse.”

“You’re not going to break my heart just because you no longer want to fuck me.”

“Oh I want to fuck you,” Harry says, stalking toward him.

He grabs him hard, hauls him into a rough kiss, and then right in the middle of Draco's classroom floor, he does exactly that.

***

I’m supposed to have thoughts now. I think I like them pushing boundaries with each other, using boundary-pushing as foreplay maybe? I like physical details, but I try to use pointed ones that say something about the characters or where they’re coming from or how this might change them. I like to use sex scenes to propel the plot forward, to make comments on characterization and the characters’ growth as people. I like commands, dirty talk, sexually charged bickering, intense vulnerability as a power move, and disarming sweetness, sometimes all in the same fic. :D

I hope you’ve enjoyed! <3

[sapphicwhxre]

tiny pansy rant, cut short so it’s *hopefully* not too long:

i. wanted. to. see. her. change! and in my opinion the reason she never got the chance was because jkr used her character to make fun of people she disliked :/

pretty much all the other noteable slytherins had some sort of redemption arc,, and yeah they’re still mostly problematic people but they got chances: snape, draco, narcissa, regulus, slughorn, leta and technically andromeda? you get the point i just—

like miss ma’am decided to make pansy,, the like slytherin stereotype? and have her want to betray harry? she was seventeen ffs, not bellatrix lestrange. she was in the middle of a war? in my personal opinion i don’t think that she wanted to hand harry over out of cruelty like. it’s possible? but maybe she was just scared? also don’t we know that pansy was terrified at the thought of like. voldemort coming to hogwarts? again: everyone expects all of the children in harry potter to be these selfless brave individuals,, they’re kids :( yes ik it’s ya fantasy but cmon. they were supposed to be stressed about the N.E.W.T exams not the upheaval of their society?

and don’t get me wrong i know that she was. not a good person. she was a bitchy teenage bully who was taught hateful views. but i wanted to see her change even a little– even draco marries someone who presumably teaches him how to treat people equally? like. there was so much room for change: she was a prefect, she was capable of some kindness seeing as she liked draco, or alternatively, we could’ve seen her break away from draco and potentially stop hating harry/all his friends quite so much or develop her own opinions. or maybe her group of friends that she used for validation throughout her school years was uprooted during the war and she had to learn that independency? or her pointing out harry could’ve been turned into trying to be selfless, like she thought they’d be safe that way, or she returned later fighting with reinforcements to show she was on Hogwarts’ side. jkr is always like "well they technically came back to fight, if you squint » but that’s not enough. also? let’s say we did get a glimpse of her during the actual battle: there could’ve been anything, the smallest scene, that showed some sort of support or reconciliation or something between her and hermione, considering how hermione was often pansy’s target. everybody wants to see forgiveness between draco and harry because of minor events/details (i dislike drarry but that’s besides the point), but imagine what could’ve changed with some semblance of apology or assistance from pansy to hermione. there were so many chances for r*wling to give her a smallest redemption

but instead we got her characterized as evil and a stupid, cowardly traitor. she the only person we ever see her care for marries her friends younger sister. she’s the written depiction of jkr’s bitterness and her arc is jkr’s vengeance.

also, another reason that i’m so mad she got nothing is because of the whole slytherin=evil thing. she’s made into a stereotype of a “slytherin”— cruel, selfish, shallow, ugly, and asinine. (also i could rant about slytherin forever, but can we just mention that jkr consistently refers to slytherins as physically ugly and just how fucked up that is? i– wtf). but anyway: to give pansy a chance to change is to give the slytherin house a chance to change its reputation. trying to justify that the slytherin house got its redemption because of the actions of ppl like snape or regulus, etc isn’t possible. because all of those “slytherin heroes” were described again and again as being “different from all the other slytherins”. they set themselves apart by being decent. they weren’t normal slytherins, no, they were set apart, they were brave and smart and kind— not evil. there’s no redemption to be found there. i wish jkr would just fucking say that being sorted into slytherin was being made into a villain. she dodged around it with rhetorical questions and pointing out how not All of them are bad,, and then will go on to mock the other slytherins and talk about how the heroes were Not Like The Other Snakes... again: there’s no redemption of slytherin as a house, as a quality, as a concept there. it’s just the redemption of an individual.

in pansy, however, we could’ve found so much more. like i said, she’s The Average Slytherin: not a hero, not a villain like voldemort. she’s made out to be a depiction of the typical slytherin student, one without a “destiny”, so to speak. and so to give her the chance, to see her change, to have her redefine herself? that would be a starting point for restoring slytherin as a whole (obviously not the best way, and the real best thing to do would be not to make an entire house be the bad guys in the first place, but–) to have someone who’s the figurehead of slytherin (like actually a figurehead,, girl is a even a prefect) show remorse and growth gives the entire house the seed of redemption. it would mean that after over a thousand years there could be peace between the houses. obviously not the only factor in reconciliation but still so important.

and not to just continue to heap on my own issues with it, but look. i know that there are so many other ways to introduce “mundane” antagonists without making them a symbol of anything. pansy could’ve been a bitch without representing slytherin. also pansy doesn’t have to break character and become kind for amends to be made. they don’t even have to be fully made, just started. but jkr chose to:

a.) go with bullying as a minor antagonistic element

b.) create and develop a character around that theme

c.) make this character only based on her own negative personal experiences

d.) turn that character into a representation of a much larger group of people

e.) deny that character any final moment that could begin to make amends for her actions and instead, chooses to make her “defining” moment an act of evil and cowardice

f.) either neglects the character or chooses plot points that would humiliate the character in all the glimpses of the future we are shown (ex. how dracos marriage is)

g.) openly mocks and insults the character repeatedly and never directly comes out and proves she didn’t write slytherins as evil

h.) to the best of my knowledge, ignores that pansy personifing slytherin, whether intentionally or unintentionally, and then characterizing both as “bad” and not giving them a chance to grow, is a summary of her thoughts on slytherin ls and is a possible interpretation of the text (i mean her opinions are already TRASH)

i. ignores the consequences of this or the possible effect it has on her entire fanbase and doesn’t seek to remedy it

but yeah, jkr, it was such a good idea to base a character off of your loathesone memories, take your anger out on her, and that choose to have that character partially represent a large percentage of your fanbase. thank you sooooo much. i really appreciate it!

summary:

I. Pansy— deserved an opportunity to have some character development. everyone else’s mistakes get overlooked to some degree save hers. had so many places to draw inspiration/opportunity from. could’ve progressed other ideas in the book and the analysis of her house while still remaining a “dislikable” character

II. Writing— from a “technical?” aspect, Pansy is underdeveloped and stagnant, used for personal reasons instead of as a plot device. perpetuates the slytherin=bad idea via a sloppy and repetitive characterization and emblem. there are ways around this that weren’t used.

III. I have no qualifications to be saying any of this lmao. Am I reading to much into it, knowing that Rowling tends to be shitty with writing details? Am I being dramatic and repetitive? probably!

IV. Fuck JKR (for everything. she’s an awful person)

anyways this has been: my mini-rant on pansy and her analysis,,, and i am terribly sorry,, i offer my apologies in advance for randomly dumping this into your inbox. it’s long and opinionated and there’s no real reason behind it! i just thought of it and then thought about it some more and then. here we are

ilysm mwah <3 should’ve definitely done something more productive but shh😭 rat brain hours

this is everything, you're completely right. i don't have much to add but i agree all the way. and people give pansy so much shit for the harry thing but she seemed genuinely scared of voldemort coming back and i really think that she believed he would leave them alone if they gave him up. from her perspective, it's either her and the people she cares about get to live or this guy that she not only isn't close to but probably sees as the bad guy considering she dated/was best friends with draco and witnessed their rivalry from his side. did she make the best decisions? no, not at all but i see her reasons and i don't think it makes her this antichrist that jkr makes her out to be. she pulled the “he's just a boy” with draco and had people sympathise with him when he did so so much worse than pansy did so why doesn't that apply to her? she's a kid. they all are. i love harry, ron, and hermione SO MUCH but jkr really said fuck everyone who isn't them ─ especially any girl who isn't her precious hermione. she projected her own pettiness onto fictional characters who are CHILDREN and proceeded to get upset when people connected to and loved other people that she herself made. creating such an underdeveloped character and expecting people to hate her just because she imagined her as her bully is beyond immature and ridiculous. anyways. jkr take a fucking chill pill and leave my girl alone.

[pricemarshfield]

the killing kind

A post-canon Drarry fic. Read on AO3 here.

Harry would like one day away from the press, from being the Boy who Lived, to just be Harry. Polyjuice would work, but it's disgusting and difficult and also possibly illegal, but wizards are bad at recognizing anything non-magical, so this might work.

At least, that was his reasoning for walking into Diagon Alley with a Muggle stage prosthetic that makes his chin look completely different, a fake mustache, and his hair enchanted to be long enough to finally, finally cover his scar. He's sure that last one will wear off in an hour, but that should be enough to get an ice cream at Fortescue's and sit outside and eat it without being swarmed.

You'd think, years after Tom Riddle's death, that they'd stop caring about him. But no, they need to report every little thing he does. Harry Potter rushed through Auror training. Harry Potter quits Ministry work, possible run for Minister? Professor McGonagall had tried her best to keep his professorship at Hogwarts under lock and key, but after his first day, the papers had a tell-all. He's not sure which student it was, but they're children. He can't blame them.

The first Prophet reporter he sees, a woman with shockingly long hair he recognizes as taking photos outside a restaurant near the Burrow (preceding an article about his break-up with Ginny that made it seem like something tragic and not like school sweethearts amicably parting weeks before the photo was taken), doesn't give him a second glance. He has to force himself to walk normally past her and not rush.

It's the one thing Auror training actually taught him. People won't pay attention to you if you act like everything's fine. One art thief he'd caught in the three weeks he'd actually worked at the Ministry had just walked into places and taken paintings, not bothering to sneak or disguise himself whatsoever. They'd assumed he must have been there. Harry had felt bad taking him in, actually; he was taking better care of the paintings than the rich assholes he was taking them from.

"Was going to take one from the Malfoys next," the guy'd said. "I know apparently the wife and the kid aren't actually, you know, Death Eaters, but they sure don't need all that art, don't they?"

"Don't suppose you'd let me catch you right after you stash that one somewhere," Harry'd joked.

"Nope. Sorry, mate," he'd said, and sounded so much like Ron that Harry made idle conversation about how Animagi tended to find it pretty easy to escape from wizarding jails, and how Azkaban was much more--ethical, now that the Dementors were gone and Hermione had aggressively campaigned for prisoners' rights. (With Harry's quiet support and financial backing, remembering how haunted Sirius had looked.)

Anyway. He's getting lost in his thoughts again. It does mean he doesn't notice if there's any other reporters on the path to Fortescue's. It also means he doesn't process the words on the sign in front of him for long enough that he's getting a couple weird looks.

Aguefort's Chronomantics Romantic Novels

Books to Transport You Through Time, Space, and Dimensions!

Harry blinks at it, looks around. This is the corner where Fortescue's was--and he briefly considers hexing himself when he remembers that Florean was one of the people who disappeared, back in the war, who never came back after. Sure enough, there's a little in memorial metal plaque on the front door of the bookshop.

He swears under his breath. He should have remembered this. But no, he's stuck.

There's probably some other shop he can grab something at, right? Other than what looks like overpriced romances? There's a few sit-down restaurants, but he needs to be in and out in forty minutes, max.

He wanders aimlessly down the streets, hoping to catch a whiff of something. Churros, tacos, some sort of street cart or something. Diagon Alley's not really that type of place, but he hasn't been here in a year and a half, so maybe someone's pushing convention.

There doesn't end up being any cheap little shops on the side of the road, but fifteen minutes later, he does see a place that sells chips and has outdoor seating, and that'll have to do. When he walks in, the place is packed, but the line's moving quickly enough that he should still be fine, if he eats quickly. Worse comes to worse, he can just Apparate away when his hair starts to act up.

He gets through the line, pays, gets his chips, adds some more salt to it, and sits outside in under six minutes. (He counts. Also, he has a watch that he remembers to look at three minutes in.) Outdoor seating's a little cramped, and he can feel himself tense, shoulders higher than they should be. He lets himself sit with his back to the wall, eyes on everyone, ignoring the reminder for CONSTANT VIGILANCE in his head from old Mad-Eye, and begins to eat.

Now that he's got some food in him and he knows...well. He's pretty sure that no one's watching him from behind, he's able to look around and appreciate his surroundings, being in the world without being stared at. It's then that he realizes a few things:

1. Most of the people here have notepads next to them, quills writing notes on their own.

2. The building across the street has a sign in looping, dramatic script that reads Daily Prophet.

3. Draco fucking Malfoy is at the table next to him, and

4. He's looking right at Harry.

Harry tries to express please, for the love of God, don't make a scene with his face. Malfoy doesn't seem to pick up on it from the way he leans forward, drawing the eyes of someone nearby. Harry casts a quick Muffliato around the pair.

"Potter," Malfoy says.

"I'm just trying to grab a bite," Harry pleads.

"What, you think they wouldn't serve you if you showed up?" Malfoy asks, arching a brow at him like he's said something oh-so-intelligent. Harry wonders if cursing him is worth the attention. But Malfoy being annoying isn't enough to get him on the front page of the Prophet, probably, and Harry didn't speak at his trial for nothing.

"No," Harry says. "But sometimes someone might like to eat without everyone staring at them, yeah?"

Malfoy narrows his eyes at him. "I can understand that."

That was more than Harry'd expected. His shoulders drop a little. "Good. I'll be out of here in just a few minutes anyway." He looks back down at his chips.

"Why?" Malfoy asks.

Harry looks up at him. He hadn't exactly anticipated a conversation with Malfoy. With a glance at the Prophet next door, Harry says, "Hungry."

"I didn't mean why here, Potter, have you really not gotten any smarter since we were at school?"

"Have you really not changed since Hogwarts either?" Harry snaps, knows it's a low blow right after it's left his mouth. Malfoy's face blanches, and he turns back to his book with a pinched expression that Harry doesn't feel guilty about. Decidedly not guilty. Not even a little. His hero complex has gotten better, and he can tell Hermione that later.

One minute and fifteen seconds later, Harry caves and hands Malfoy a chip. He has to lean way too far, two of his chair legs leaving the ground, but the scrape of that means at least Malfoy glances up and he doesn't have to say anything to get his attention. Malfoy takes the chip with an expression of distaste. He doesn't seem to have any food.

"Did you come here for food and get turned away?" Harry asks, connecting a couple things in his head like those mystery boards Ron still uses at work.

Malfoy glares at him. "No, I'm sitting here because I'm fond of being by a bunch of reporters."

"You could leave," Harry says. "It doesn't look like you're chained here."

"That would be conceding, Potter," Malfoy says primly. "I don't expect you to understand."

"Alright," Harry says. "Look, I just wanted some food, the charm on my hair's wearing off soon, and I didn't mean to rub it in your face." After an awkward pause, he adds, "Also, wizards don't notice anything with Muggle prosthetics, so. You could try that."

"Is that why your chin looks like that?" Malfoy asks, horrified. "It's horrific, Potter, you're better off just taking off those glasses rather than completely destroy your appearance."

"It's temporary," Harry says, ignoring the little thrill up his spine when Malfoy almost-implies something nice about how he looks. "And I'm trying not to get looked at, git."

Malfoy gives Harry a quick up-and-down look then flicks his wand. Harry braces himself, but instead feels his hair cool a little, like a more pleasant disillusionment charm. When he glances at the shop's window, he can see it's fallen even further flat.

"Thanks," Harry says. Malfoy nods at him. "Sorry."

"What are you talking about?"

"That that happened," Harry says. "The shop thing, not the--not the hair thing."

The corner of Malfoy's mouth quirks up. "I'm used to it."

Not for the first time, Harry's struck with a quiet sense of injustice that he doesn't really know what to do with. In school, it was simple: pass his classes, defeat Riddle, and try to win the House Cup. But there's things he can't tackle quite as easily, or at least the path towards them are less clear. The right of blood over anything else in wizarding families, the existence of house elves, the way people are judged years later for what they did as a child in war.

Harry's under no illusions about Malfoy being a good person; he was still a bigoted little git in school. But he also knows he's made an attempt to do better, to be better.

"If you want," Harry says, wincing at how awkward and halting his voice sounds. "Next time the Prophet corners me, I can say something nice about you. Might change things."

"Why?" Malfoy says,  brow furrowed, the picture of distrust.

Harry shrugs. "Dunno. Seems unfair."

"You really do have a hero complex," Malfoy says despairingly. "I thought it was just a pathological need for attention, but no, you really do have to step into situations that don't need you if you have even the slightest inkling someone might be a bit upset."

"I don't have to," Harry says, rolling his eyes. "It was an offer. You know, something people do when they're trying to be nice?"

"Gryffindors," Malfoy sighs. "This is why you lot end up being Chosen Ones."

Harry wants to yell at him or just throw a hex, reporters be damned, but Malfoy's smiling slightly, and his tone was almost joking, maybe.

"At least we didn't have to live in a dungeon," Harry says, and meets Malfoy's gaze with a slight smile back.