#she's also very attracted to both Nevers and Aurore

[jpriest85-blog]

Some @gonzague-if art of Aurore and Nevers early in their courtship. The original novel never gave much information about their first meeting, except that Nevers had a castle or estate near Tarrides 🤔

Considering how earnest and friendly Nevers is portrayed in the game, it's easy to see how he winds up charming someone as reserved and cautious as Aurore. Also, Nevers is confirmed to be drawn to clever people, and Aurore is very well read and educated despite being raised in such a secluded environment. I could easily picture their romance playing out like something out of a storybook. It's such a shame it doesn't have a happy ending for the both of them 😢.

[viperify]

Kinktober 2024 | 𝗼𝗰𝘁 𝟭𝟯: ᴛ��ᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇ���ᴅᴇʀ

Let me take care of you. | pt. 1

Part Two is up!

summary: You and Tom didn’t get on well. Always challenging the other, striving to become the best student of your year. When you then decided to stay at Hogwarts during your last Christmas holidays to fully focus on your study, things drastically changed…

Warnings: 18+ only! | sensual fingering, handjob, inexperienced!reader, fear of getting caught

A/N: after my last post this was very necessary. I do prefer this version of Tom ngl. Feedback is greatly appreciated! <3

wordcount: 2,7k

You and Tom Riddle were both Head Girl and Head Boy. You never got on well with the brunette, years of academic rivalry making the two of you hate each other. The smug grin he put on whenever he scored a better grade than you had you fuming every time. Oh, how much you despised that subtle arrogance.

As it was your seventh year at Hogwarts, final exams were coming up soon. Your parents were going to visit family in the US for Christmas, so you decided it was for the better to stay at Hogwarts, preparing for exam season. This sadly also meant that you would spend your birthday all alone, as your friends decided to return home during the break.

You had high ambitions for the NEWTS. Striving to become an auror, you knew you had to excel at pretty much every single subject. That was why you spent most of the first week of the holidays in the library, head stuck in Potions, Charms, Transfigurations and Defence against the Dark Arts literature. Each time you entered the library, Tom was already sitting in his usual spot, seemingly doing the same thing you were. Nerd.

He never left Hogwarts during breaks. You had been wondering for a while why that was the case. His parents must surely be proud of their son, after all he was one of the best students in the whole school. But in the end, you didn’t care.

“Anything you need help with?” The sudden question tore you out of your thoughts. You looked up to spot Tom standing there in front of you, hands in the pockets of his trousers, an eyebrow raised. You must have been staring at him for too long.

You felt your face heat up at the thought. If you didn’t need one thing, it was Tom getting another ego boost. Of course, Tom was attractive. Girls had been fancying him for years, but he did not seem interested in any of them. Harsh rejections were the outcome of anyone asking him out, even the most popular girl was left crying when she tried. You preferred challenging Tom academically but couldn’t deny his appeal. His brunette locks falling onto his forehead, his posture, his robes always neat without a crease. And his hands. You loved the veins decorating his skin, his slender fingers wrapping around his wand so perfectly.

But you didn’t like each other. And what would be more pathetic than getting rejected by the boy you hated? That was why you tried being better than him at every single test you had, because that was how to humble a Tom Riddle.

“No. I am doing perfectly fine on my own, thanks.” You replied casually, reverting your gaze to the book in front of you.

“Then stop staring. It’s a bit too obvious.” He whispered, leaning to you slightly.

“I was not staring!” You blurted out, but he had already turned around to go back to his spot. You could see the grin on his face from here, and oh how you hated it.

You couldn’t focus anymore after that and decided to go back to your dorm, taking the afternoon off. A well deserved break.

The second week continued just the same, you two and a handful other students studying in the library. However, today was your birthday and you did not want to spend that getting headaches over potion ingredients. If you could not celebrate with your friends you thought, you would at least use it to relax. And what better spot was there to relax than the Prefect’s bathroom?

You made your way towards it, carefully sneaking around the castle to not get caught. It was not too dangerous, most professors and students not being there anyway. When you had finally reached the entry, you looked around again, and as you did not see anyone, you entered the room. You had never been in there before, as obviously Tom was made prefect and not you. But as you both were head boy and head girl now, you decided you could try it out at least once.

It wasn’t well lit, yet you could still see the marble floor and statues decorating the room. It looked stunning, and with a quick wave of your wand the bathtub was filling, air becoming more humid by the minute. Bubbles were forming on the hot water and as it was almost full, you undressed yourself and stepped into the tub. First, you massaged some shampoo into your hair, letting it sit for a few minutes. Soon enough, you felt yourself grow tired, eyelids fluttering close.

You must have fallen asleep, because a loud creak of the door woke you up.

Shit shit shit.

You searched for your wand, but you remembered you had left it on top of the pile of your clothes, out of reach from the bathtub. What was there left to do? You quickly hid your exposed body under the bubbles, sinking into the water as far as you could, only letting your head peak out. Staying as silent as you could, you hoped the person barging in had seen someone was there already and would leave again without making the whole situation awkward.

“Celebrating your birthday all alone, are we?” A familiar voice questioned.

It was Tom. What on earth was he doing here and why was he coming closer?

“Leave! Get out! Can’t you see I am bathing?” You hissed, covering your body even under water.

“That’s no way to talk to someone who just wants to wish you a happy birthday.” Tom purred, now standing behind you.

“Riddle! This is completely inappropriate! What if someone sees us like this?” You shrieked.

“I locked the door, unlike you.”

“If this is just another attempt to humiliate me, you have done a great job. You can leave now.” You snapped at him.

“I am not here for that. As a Head Boy, it’s my duty to wish the Head Girl a happy birthday after all. Besides, who could resist the prettiest girl of Hogwarts mindlessly not locking the bathroom door?”

“Riddle!” You exclaimed, yet you didn’t make an effort to make him leave.

He sighed. “I see the way you are looking at me. I know you feel the same way I do. Tell me to leave again and I will. Tell me you don’t want this and we can forget about it.”

As you were struggling to answer him, he turned around, exhaling loudly.

“No, Tom. Please. Please stay.” You whispered, turning your head to finally face him. What had gotten into you? You hated him, yet you couldn’t resist him.

Tom traced back his steps, returning to your side. At first he seemed hesitant at what to do next, but then he gently started massaging your sore shoulders, his thumbs working perfect circles into your skin.

“Is it true what you are saying, Tom?”

“I don’t lie.”

You nodded but weren’t fully convinced of his true intentions. However, you loved the way he was tending to your body. Did he really think you were pretty?

“Your muscles feel very tense. You shouldn’t spend so much time studying at once.” He remarked, never stopping.

You rested your head against his chest, closing your eyes. “Is that your way of getting me to fail my finals?” You grinned, slightly shifting.

“You wouldn’t fail. We both know that. All I am saying is that you should take more care of your health.” He said, voice calm.

You hummed, solely focusing on his hands on your body.

“Do you mind me joining? It’s alright if you aren’t comfortable.” He asked carefully.

“I don’t mind.” Though, you felt yourself become nervous at the thought of sharing a tub with him. He left your side to undress himself. You could hear piece after piece of clothing dropping to the ground, and soon enough he stepped into the bathtub next to you. That was the first time you looked him into the eyes since he had entered the room, and you felt your face heat up, looking away.

“No need to get shy now. Come here.” He grinned, offering you a hand. As you reached out to grab it, he pulled you onto his lap, so you could rest your back against his chest. Goosebumps started to rise on your body, the contact between your bodies sending shivers up your spine.

“Can I touch you, darling?” He whispered in your ear, and you nodded. You were quite inexperienced when it came to intimate things like these, never having had sex or a boyfriend before. His hands first found your waist, sliding down to your thighs. He massaged them, working his thumbs into your skin. You couldn’t help but gasp at the sensation, making him plant a soft kiss on your ear.

“Let me take care of you.” He added, his hands leaving your thighs to travel up towards your breasts. Tom stopped before he reached them, and as you nodded, he cupped them in his hands. First tenderly massaging them, then rolling your hardening buds between two of his fingers. You gripped his thighs, arching your back as you moaned at the way his hands perfectly worked your body.

“That feel good?” He grinned, one arm now holding you around your waist to keep you pinned on his body. “So good. Don’t stop, please.” You whined, closing your eyes. The sensations went straight to your core and you felt yourself become wet. It all felt so wrong, yet you couldn’t get yourself to stop him.

Almost as if he sensed, his hands found their way to your aroused cunt, sliding one of his fingers through your slick folds. “Even under water I can feel you become wet. Want me to help you make you feel so good?” Tom queried, his fingers finding your clit. “Yes please, want you to touch me.” You whispered desperately. On command, Tom softly started circling his fingers around your puffy nub, eliciting soft moans and gasps from your lips.

His other hand never left your breast, still tenderly swiping his thumb over your erect bud. You felt yourself get closer to the edge, a knot forming in your lower stomach, ready to be set free. “More please, Tom” you begged him, bucking your hips against his hand.

“So needy. Who would have known?” He laughed softly, his fingers leaving your aching clit. You whined protestingly, but soon enough his finger slid down further, meeting your soaked entrance, which he traced. You squeaked at the unfamiliar feeling, water splashing around you. “Sshh. Relax. Gonna make you cum” he soothed. He entered you first with one finger, testing the waters. Soon enough a second finger prodded at your entrance, pushing into you as well. You hissed at the stretch, your body tensing up, thighs closing around his arms.

“Too much?” Tom asked you, his fingers stilling inside of you. You shook your head sligtly. “No but be careful, please.” Tom nodded. “Of course.” He slowly but surely set a slow pace, stretching you out perfectly. His other hand now slid down to meet your needy clit again, circling it.

“Tom m’ gonna cum!” You exclaimed, the feeling getting overwhelming, yet amazingly good. He sped up, murmuring sweet encouraging words into your ear.

“Come for me. Make me proud.”

Tom curled his fingers, rubbing the spongey spot inside of you. The knot inside your stomach tightened and soon enough you convulsed around his long fingers, clenching them so tightly even he groaned. Tom worked you through your orgasm, only stopping when you squeaked and closed your thighs around him. He then slowly pulled out of you, making you whine at the now empty feeling. “You did so well, darling. Such a good girl.” Tom praised as you relaxed against his warm body.

“Thank you, Tommy.” You smiled, earning a scoff from him. “You know I hate that name.”

With one quick motion you got up, turning around to now kneel between his legs, facing him. “I am sorry, Tommy.” You grinned, squealing away from him. He was quick enough to grab your arm, pulling you towards him again. “Little minx. That’s not how you treat someone who was inside of you less than two minutes ago.” He hissed, kissing your forehead. A blush spread on your cheeks, and Tom reached out to massage your scalp. “Want me to wash it out for you?” He questioned, and you nodded.

The whole seven years at Hogwarts you could have never fathomed the boy you despised like no other washing your hair, just after he made you cum on his fingers. He did it so tenderly as well, you could have fallen asleep right then and there.

“Want to get out? The water is getting cold, darling. We can’t have you getting sick.”

“Make it warm again, please. We aren’t done.” You said, kneeling between his legs again. He raised an eyebrow. “Wanna make you feel good as well, please.” You pouted, sliding your hands up his thighs.

“You don’t have to. It’s your birthday after all.” Tom grabbed your hands, stopping you.

“Oh, it’s alright if you don’t want me to.” You awkwardly tried removing your hands from his grip, but he didn’t let you. “Listen to me. I do want you to. I want nothing more than that. All I am saying is you don’t have to.”

“I want to”

“Okay then.” With a quick wave of his wand the water was warm again and you got to work. Your soft hands found his erect length, taking it in your hand. First, you swiped your thumb over his tip, making him throw his head back, groaning slightly. He rested both of his arms on the tub, letting you do your job. Your hands wrapped tightly around his cock, slowly stroking him up and down. “Good girl.” He praised, one hand finding your tits.

You continued your ministrations, going faster, paying close attention to his facial expressions. After a few minues, you could feel his cock twitch in your hand, a sign he was getting close. Then, you stopped.

He looked at you then, furrowing his eyebrows. “Don’t stop.”

“Stand up, please.”

Tom did just that and he grinned when he realized what you were planning. “Didn’t know you were such a dirty girl. Fuck.”

You continued jerking him off and he stroked your hair.

“Gonna cum, darling.” He warned you, groaning, and you opened your mouth in preparation. Soon after, hot streaks of his release shot straight into your mouth, some of it decorating your face. You made sure to milk him of every single last drop and kissed his tip afterwards, swallowing.

“That was quite the show. Filthy girl.” Tom lowered himself back into the water, pulling you onto his lap so you were facing him. He planted kisses on your collarbone, trailing all the way up to the corner of your lips.

“You got a little something there.” He smirked, swiping his thumb over your soft skin. “Open your mouth.” And you did, sucking his finger clean, never breaking eye contact.

He shook his head, grinning.

Both of you now just enjoyed each others company, holding each other close. You could feel and hear his heart thudding from where you had placed your head, relishing the intimacy between you two.

“Why did you come in here?” You questioned after some time, savoring the warmth of the water in combination with the heat radiating from Tom’s body. Your fingers drew small circles on his chest, until you rested your palm on his warm skin.

“Because I don’t want us to hate each other anymore.” He replied softly, kissing your forehead.

“I don’t think I ever hated you.”

“Me neither. I had all these girls running after me, wishing it was you.”

You smirked, tilting your head up to look at his face. His lips were so perfectly shaped, plump and had a perfect color. You leaned into him, and he closed the gap, capturing you in a breathtaking kiss that had your mind spinning.

“I am afraid I can’t let you go anymore after this.” Tom sighed, never breaking eye contact.

“Then don’t” you smiled, cuddling into him again.

[saintsenara]

honestly is there a single competent teacher at Hogwarts? Any teacher I can think of with more than 10 lines of dialogue is a pedagogical disaster. Very shippable disasters though, for which I am grateful because your page has made me giggle all week.

maybe Sprout.

honestly, anon? no.

that school is a basket case and the older i get the more my sympathy for cornelius fudge increases. imagine getting the call where dumbledore says "heyyyyy... so, i hired what i thought was an ex-auror who was retired from the service because of serious ptsd, gave him no teacher training, let him perform illegal curses on children for fun, and then it turns out he was an escaped convict trying to resurrect the dark lord all along. lmao."

i'd have devoted myself to trying to discredit him too.

and so, for fun and profit, i think it's only fair for us to establish an official competency ranking of the teaching staff at hogwarts during the period 1991-1998... points on for having a basic grasp of the material, points off for anyone who nearly dies in your class.

1. wilhelmina grubbly-plank, care of magical creatures

genuinely, professor grubbly-plank is the only person we meet in all seven books who seems to be an uncomplicatedly good teacher. she's got a series of well-defined lesson plans which feature a mixture of guided and independent study and which work in a tangible way towards exams, she has clear authority in the classroom but is never unreasonable or cruel, she's demonstrably able to lead a practical class which involves wild animals which might behave dangerously or unpredictably without there ever being any concerns about student safety, she takes an active pastoral role [such as when she helps heal hedwig's injured wing, reassuring harry enormously], she's collegial [she shares her lessons plans with hagrid in goblet of fire, and she refuses to criticise his teaching to umbridge], and she's admired by all of her pupils except harry [who is nonetheless begrudgingly forced to admit that she's incredibly good at her job].

plus, her aesthetic is iconic.

=2. filius flitwick, charms; pomona sprout, herbology

in joint second place, we have these two.

both sprout and flitwick spend canon seeming to be pretty good at their jobs - they have interesting lesson plans which seem to balance theoretical and practical work well and which prepare their pupils properly for exams, their pupils like them and enjoy their lessons, they're both excellent at the pastoral side of their jobs [sprout's gentle encouragement of neville is really lovely], and they're adored by their colleagues.

they lose marks for lax classroom discipline. harry, ron, and hermione are constantly yapping away in both charms and herbology - with harry and ron frequently failing to understand what they're supposed to be learning because they were too busy have a chat.

=4. remus lupin, defence against the dark arts; septima vector, arithmancy

two teachers here who earn their placement on the list by having one pupil who considers them life-alteringly inspiring.

for lupin, this is dean thomas - whose constant state of readiness to throw hands to defend his honour is one of his greatest character traits. for vector, it's hermione.

obviously, they're both well-qualified, well-prepared, engaging, and [at least in lupin's case, but i can't see why it wouldn't also be the case for vector] well-regarded by their colleagues.

they don't rank higher because lupin loses marks for endangering his students by not disclosing his knowledge that the presumed-to-be-a-death-eater sirius has a means of entering hogwarts without detection [i understand why he does this from a characterisation point of view, but it's inexcusable from a safeguarding one] and because vector teaches an elective subject which is implied to only attract bright, engaged pupils - and therefore has an easier time in the classroom than someone trying to get a student like crabbe through their exams.

5. minerva mcgonagall, transfiguration

in comes minnie mac at number five.

unsurprisingly, her solid curriculum, excellent classroom discipline, high-regard among her colleagues and pupils, support of student extracurricular activities, and investment in helping her pupils pursue the careers they want all give her points.

she loses marks, however, for the fact that she is so casually disdainful of pupils who aren't instinctively good at her subject - which suggests that she doesn't know how to adapt her material so it can be understood by every student she teaches. like dumbledore, she seems to have an identifiable favouritism for brilliant students - who she seems to permit to get away with much more than students she considers average or dull - which probably doesn't endear her to anyone who doesn't get that treatment.

on her pastoral approach, though, i don't think that it matters too much that she's not particularly nurturing - even though she's a head of house. she seems to be good at responding to genuine distress and managing genuine crises with empathy, and the "pull yourself together" vibes she takes in response to more trivial dramas is because she's a presbyterian scotswoman.

6. severus snape, potions & defence against the dark arts

the one on this list that i imagine will be controversial...

because snape is a dick in the classroom - not denying that - but he's also, in terms of his pupils' exam performance, clearly the most successful teacher in the entire school. he can fill his newt-level classes despite only admitting those with outstanding grades, and he expects every pupil he teaches to pass owl-level potions and seems not to be disappointed. hermione reveals that he does teach the theory of potions and the discipline's wider application - harry and ron just don't listen - and that she thinks his lessons are interesting.

snape loses marks - obviously - for his general vibe, although i think he should be allowed some leeway for his dickhead behaviour since potions is clearly a subject in which not paying attention and not being able to follow instructions properly is dangerous [hence why i've been a trevor hater since day one].

i suppose he should also be allowed some leeway because it's a genre requirement for a school story to have a theatrically evil teacher. but he's not getting it - since he clearly enjoys the role so much.

7. horace slughorn, potions

marks on for encouraging independent thinking and for clearly being able to hold a classroom's attention. marks off for not learning the names of pupils he's indifferent to, getting his favourite pupils drunk, and for having no follow-up questions to "hello, sir. i'd like to commit some murders."

8. charity burbage, muggle studies

entirely because i think it's genuinely admirable - and, indeed, far more admirable than the fact that the order of the phoenix all happily keep working for the state following voldemort's takeover - that she publishes an article in the daily prophet, to which her real name is attached, explicitly refuting blood-supremacist rhetoric when she must know that a blood-supremacist government is about to come into power.

marks off because the fact that even wizards who've taken her class appear to know fuck all about muggle society means that she can't be particularly good at her job.

9. firenze, divination

marks on because his pupils love him, marks off because that's a tremendously low bar to clear given... trelawney.

him telling his classes that divination is a bullshit, made-up subject is iconic, though.

10. "alastor moody", defence against the dark arts

i think it's genuinely impressive that he manages to go from being imprisoned under the imperius curse for a decade straight into planning a full year's lesson plans [which his pupils love] and doesn't have a breakdown.

marks off because of literally everything else.

=11. all the miscellaneous teachers: aurora sinistra, astronomy; silvanus kettleburn, care of magical creatures; bathsheba babbling, ancient runes

they seem fine.

14. rolanda hooch, flying

full respect to her for managing to wangle a full-time salary out of an annual workload made up of teaching one lesson [badly] and refereeing six quidditch matches.

15. quirinus quirrell, defence against the dark arts

all the proof those of us who hate professor riddle stories need that voldemort would have been a dogshit teacher, if he can't even get his meat-puppet to inspire a room full of eager eleven-year-olds in a subject which is about the coolest ways possible to kill people.

=16. cuthbert binns, history of magic; sybill trelawney, divination

they're terrible, obviously, but the fact that they remain in their jobs despite being so clearly incompetent is entirely dumbledore's fault. are you not giving the staff performance reviews, albus? come on now.

18. dolores umbridge, defence against the dark arts

umbridge deserves to be in prison, but she did at least bother to plan out a curriculum.

=19. gilderoy lockhart, defence against the dark arts; rubeus hagrid, care of magical creatures

both victims of dumbledore's "lol this will be so funny" era of hiring practices. both deservedly regarded as completely fucking incompetent by all but one defiant brownnoser. both possessing jazzy taste in textbooks.

21. amycus carrow, defence against the dark arts

he beats his sister simply because his pupils do appear to know how to perform the unforgivable curses correctly.

22. alecto carrow, muggle studies

literally nothing positive can be said.

[thegirlwhowrites642]

Do you think Harry is handsome?

Let's answer this question properly so people can finally stop talking about this.

Technically, there's a quote from Rowling that says that James, while not as handsome as Sirius, is good-looking. Harry looks like James, so that should solve it.

This is not really about remembering what's written in the books (something JKR clearly doesn't know how to do) so we could even take that statement and be done with it.

But fuck JKR.

Let's start with James.

It's said that Sirius and James could have been mistaken for brothers. Obviously, while this is a reference to how close they were, it must also mean they looked kind of alike. After all, they were two tall white English posh boys with black hair. But Sirius is supposed to be incredibly handsome so I highly doubt you could mistake someone that is not conventionally good-looking for his brother.

You could add that the kind of arrogance James displays is very difficult to have if you are not somewhat good-looking. James is also very popular, and as good as the guy can be at Quidditch, he is a massive nerd, so to achieve the super-popular status he must have been good-looking.

When Lily shouts at him about messing up his hair, her accusation is that he is doing it to look cooler, never heard of someone that looks cooler by being less good-looking. His hypothetically looking like an idiot for doing it doesn't seem to align with his being popular and also, the guy has friends, and one of those friends is Sirius, if it made him look like an idiot he would know.

This could already settle the issue, but let's talk about Harry.

Harry starts the story as this short underfed thing but he changes during the story.

Between fourth and fifth year, he has his first growth spurt. He seems to have another between fifth and sixth year.

In the fifth book, Pansy substantially calls Harry ugly while he is on a date with Cho. Now, I'm sure she was exaggerating but he mustn't have looked like a model for her to be able to say that. What is also true is that Harry has gone through a growth spurt while being starved and hyper-stressed and with what? Four hours of sleep each night? He mustn't have looked at his best.

In fourth year, Cho, who is a year older, barely knows him (which means personality is not a factor), and is dating Cedric, a supposedly handsome guy, seems to kind of like him. She doesn't find him ugly for sure. Harry here is still pretty short so I imagine he must have a quite decent facial structure. To be fair, considering Cho's behaviour with the whole date/post-article mess, one could argue that maybe she just had a bit of a popularity fetish. This is up to everyone's personal interpretation I suppose.

At the start of sixth year, Hermione tells Harry that one of the reasons why girls like him is that he got taller, but it's just a way to say they find him good-looking. He wasn't short the year before, and sure now there's the difference that they don't think he is completely nuts, but the implication is very clear. If you think about it, it's pretty reasonable, this is probably the first time in Harry's life he looks healthy, surely the first time since he got tall. He spent nearly all summer at the Burrow being properly fed, playing Quidditch under the sun, and falling in love which is always good for the skin (I'm completely serious, it's a hormones thing).

After the war, Harry becomes an Auror, so he definitely is very much in shape. And we have already established he has a good facial structure, he's tall, and his messy hair is recognised as attractive. And, I mean, the combination of black hair and green eyes must not be horrible.

At last, let's talk about something I'm sure no one cares about besides me. Harry and Ginny's stories are built in parallel because they are meant to be equals. They are both popular, they are both charismatic, and they are both famous. Ginny is meant to be this undisputably beautiful girl, so undeniably beautiful that not even the people who hate her can deny it. If Harry isn't, not necessarily as good-looking but still conventionally good-looking, the structure gets ruined.

So, yeah, Harry is handsome. Not Sirius handsome, but handsome.

[If someone writes me that attractiveness is subjective I swear to God, I'm blocking them. We are talking about conventional beauty here. And, yes, knowing if a character is or is not conventionally good-looking is pretty important to be able to write them correctly]

[dramioneasks]

Hey!! Really grateful for all the work y'all do around here. Lifesavers, honestly.

I'm looking for fics with the 'Voldemort died but the death eaters lived on' premise. I've already read The Pretense by Colubrina, and the theme of Draco helping Hermione act as a spy and what not, it was all just so interesting. So yeah, fics similar to The Pretense or maybe just the 'Voldemort died but the death eaters rule didn't end' kinda fic?

Thank you sooo much!

Aurelian by BittyBlueEyes - T, 43 chapters - Two years after the war, a young stranger pays a visit to the burrow. His arrival alone is baffling, but the news he brings of an upcoming war turns the world upside down. Hermione’s quiet, post-war life will never be the same.

The Best of Me - mrsren - M, 27 chapters - Officially, Hermione Granger was killed in action during the Battle of Hogwarts. Unofficially, Draco Malfoy has never stopped searching for her. Years after the war during a mission in France, his salvation comes in the form of a little blond boy and a familiar half-Kneazle.

The Art of Ascension by GinnyFics21 - E, WIP - Ten years after the fall of Voldemort, Auror Draco and Detective Hermione are partnered together on the Ministry’s high profile case hinting at a Death Eater resurgence. Can they put the pieces together to stop it as the plot unfolds and secrets unravel between them? “I know what you did, Malfoy; what you sacrificed,” Hermione said quietly. “There is good in you somewhere if you’ll let yourself see it.”His eyes were dark, unreadable and calculating as he stared back at her, “I may be on the side of the angels, Granger, but don’t think—for one second—that I am one of them.” ****A fic written around this particular quote from Sherlock.

The Gloriana Set by ThebeMoon - M, 81 chapters, Words: 271,830 - The War is won, and Hermione Granger is back at Hogwarts as an “Eighth Year”, feeling reckless and determined to shed her prim bookworm persona. She will do as she pleases, and anyone who doesn’t like it will see the business end of her wand. Also returning is Draco Malfoy, universally hated but determined to restore his family’s name. Hermione’s hopes for a quiet school year are quickly dashed as she contends with mischievous First Years, killer plants, enchanted hair accessories, a totally inappropriate Moaning Myrtle, renegade Death Eaters, a nice vampire, a poorly named study group, a depraved party, and mysterious, threatening blood messages on the castle walls. We have redemption, partial redemption and (sadly or hilariously) no redemption at all. Throw in a snarky, disturbingly attractive Draco with his own secret agenda, and we have a very slow-burn Dramione with a side of who-dun-it. COMPLETE!

How To Love A Slytherin by SlytherinsGreenPrincess - M, 11 chapters - When the ancient Marriage Law is reenacted, Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy agree to marry. But while dodging her abusive ex-boyfriend, Ron Weasley, and a new group of rogue death eaters, will they survive?

The End’s Intent - shewritesall - T, 33 chapters - Hermione Granger did not know just what she was getting into when she made friends with a pointy faced, blond boy during her first year. Draco Malfoy did not know how utterly in love he’d become with the bushy haired muggle born girl. Both of them thought they knew what they could expect when they returned to Hogwarts for their final year, but after a freak encounter with some werewolves and an unfortunate incident with wannabe Death Eaters, things turn out much, much different than either of them could have ever imagined.

Shifted - hiccupfound - E, 26 chapters - Three years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Voldemort has gone deep into hiding behind the protection of the remaining Death Eaters. The few surviving Order Members are given one Death Eater to assassinate to draw Voldemort out for the Final Battle. Ginny is given Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry takes Antonin Dolohov. Hermione has Draco Malfoy.

-Lisa

[noteveryoneis]

Avatrice as Hogwarts teacher

This is not about my fic, and I desperatly need sleep before my exam tomorrow but I just spent the last five hours writing this so enjoy

Hogwarts is Heaven's Place on Earth, witches and wizards say, thinking dreamily about their younger years and how the world was just on the palm of their hands.

Their children would snicker, looking at each other with playfulness in their eyes and irony sitting on their lips. Because, yes, Hogwarts still is and will always be the best place on Earth, but someone has made it their life goal to be the embodiement of mischief.

That certain someone is Hogwarts' Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Ava Silva. For someone who is known to have battled the darkest wizards and witches in America before even reaching the age of twenty, Professor Silva has way too much joy and energy, and even a bunch of pubescent teenagers cannot keep up with her. Her ecstasy would bubble up and rise with every passing second, a devouring smile plastered on her face, short hair bouncing around her head, before exploding with a loud 'Bang!', leaving everyone fighting for cover in her wake. Sure, Professor Silva is chaotic and messy and disorganized, but she is also kind and tooth-rottingly sweet and so good at her job her student would probably all pass their Auror's entrance exam with flying colors.

What makes her so popular is also the playful (on her part) rivalry she entertains with their Charms Professor, Beatrice Young.

Professor Young's default setting is solemnity, never having a single hair out of place, shirt buttoned all the way up and hands folded behind her back. She is known for her rigor, her commitment and her profound disdain for her colleague Professor Silva. But Professor Young has also shown a certain sense of devotion to her students, and she is probably one of the most supportive teacher there is in the world. She believes in them, every single one of them, with undeniable faith and the most sincere certainty that drive her students to give the best version of themselves to the world, in and out of her classroom.

But beside the love they have for both teachers (and the rest of their teachers, in fact) Hogwarts' students absolutely adore every single interaction they can witness between the two professors.

At least once every couple of days, Professor Silva's door would swing open after a very loud explosion probably caused by her chaotic way of teaching, and Professor Young would be standing in the doorway, absolutely fuming with rage, jaw clenched and her hand gripping her wand so hard they were afraid it was going to snap in half.

"Once again," she would say, voice sharp and dripping with disdain, "you have found a way to disturb my teaching, Professor Silva."

Yes, because Headmistress Superion had had the brilliant idea to put their classrooms on either sides of a hallway, and there was no way they can't hear each other — especially when Professor Silva is that dedicated to give Headmistress Superion gray hair.

But Professor Silva is always unphased by her keen tone, flashing one of her sunny-kissed smile at her colleague.

"Come on, Bea," she would respond, bouncing on her toes. "Just take a seat, if you're so eager to see what we're doing."

Professor Young would never take a seat.

"Don't call me that."

Professor Silva would never stop.

And Professor Young would storm out, mumbling angry rants under her breath, and Professor Silva would wink at her students, continuing with her lesson and making a point of being the loudest person around.

Some people believe they are competing for the 'Best Teacher' title, which doesn't even exist (officially), some think they simply have different beliefs and views.

Some cheeky students whisper that perhaps Professor Silva has the hots for Professor Young (they know she is attracted to women, if the dozen conflicting pride flags in her pencil jar is anything to believe) and that this is just some weird flirting.

But they know it's impossible, because Professor Silva is very happy and in love, thank you very much. A simple golden band sits on her ring finger, and she sometimes like to slip little words about her wife when everyone leaves for holiday.

She's going to visit Castelbruxo, the brazillian school of witchcraft and wizardry, where she is from, with her beloved wife during spring break (she promises them Hogwarts is the best, but makes them swear not to tell anyone she ever said that because her wife can't know — nobody has the heart to tell her they don't know her wife either). She gives them a paper exam right before Christmas break, telling them she needs a reason not to visit her in-laws, and they laugh and ask if her wife is okay with that and she scoffs, 'Of course she is, who do you think came up with those questions?' (the test is so simple and they have such good grades that Professor Silva is called into Headmistress Superion's office who suspects they are cheating — they're not). She tells them, sitting cross-legged on her desk and pouting like a fretful child, that her wife forbid her to ever adopt a dragon, and they all send quiet thank you to her wife because they don't think they could handle a fire breathing version of Professor Silva (however, she lets her adopt a Bowtruck that sits happily on her shoulder one day, its arm wrapped into a strand of her hair — 'His name is Halo,' Professor Silva says, buzzing with happiness and excitement. 'My wife says it's a fitting name and now I'm trying to find a way to marry her again.') One day she comes into class red-eyed and with a running nose and they're all ready to go to war to whoever made her this sad until she tells them that she lost her wife's favorite scarf and dramatically plops on her chair repeating that she is a failure and a disgrace to womankind (they all breath in relief and tell her to buy her a new one and just spray her perfume on it when she argues it won't smell like her anymore — she comes back the next morning with rosy cheeks and a bright smile on her lips, wrapped in a sweater that is definitely not hers, and gives them the funniest class ever as a thank you).

Their conclusion is that Professor Young must have given her the impression that she was annoyed by her when she started teaching at Hogwarts — Nobody remembers when it was, Professor Silva just spawned on a random day and they don't remember ever having to watch her introduce herself to anyone — and Professor Silva saw it as a challenge.

And Merlin does she seem to love to provoke her.

She runs into the hall discheveled and covered in dirt after an eventful encounter with a Thestral (it's not a surprise that she sees them, Professor Silva has made the news in America at the age of thirteen for fighting Dark Wizards, they checked the library) , and collides with Professor Young, sending all of her books flying on the ground. She immediately apologizes profusely, picking up her books and papers and shoving them back into her hands before running away once again, living muddy footprints behind her and a sticky piece of meat into Professor Young's hand. It takes all of Professor Young's willpower not to chug it back at her running figure, and she simply straightens, grasps her books with a firm hand and crosses the expanse of grass towards the Forbidden Forest to give the meat back to the Thestral that is waiting for it at the edge of the woods (Professor Young also sees Thestral, but nobody knows who died in front of her and nobody dares to ask).

She makes a show of kicking down the Great Hall's door the time that Professor Young is having a bad day, barging into the room and yelling out 'To freedom!' before releasing a bunch of tiny birds that fly out into the fake ceiling, as she laughs maniacally. Professor Young buries her face in her hands, eyes closed, as Professor Lilith Villaumbrosia rolls her eyes, Professor Camila Delcán lets her jaw fall to the ground and Professor Michael Salvius absolutely bursts out laughing, like he always do whenever Professor Silva does something crazy. Professor Silva looks down at her shoes and doesn't answer when Headmistress Superion reprimands her publicly, and they catch the tiniest of smirks on Professor Young's lips as she lowers her hands, apparently pleased to see her rival finally being scolded for her behavior.

She sneaks up into the late evening class that Professor Young teaches, Ancient Runes, sitting at the back with her feet propped up on the table. Most of the time, Professor Young sees her immediately, and points sternly to the door. 'Get out,' she says, and Professor Silva skips happily to the door, sometime spinning on herself before exiting and yelling out 'Be good for boo-boo, kids!', and Professor Young slams the door in her face and they hear her giggle down the hall. But sometimes, Professor Young's wishful thinking makes her not-see that Professor Silva is here, or perhaps she chooses to ignore it. Professor Silva then makes a challenge of raising her hand in the middle of the class and asking the most out-of-pocket questions ('Would you rather be a Thunderbird with no wings or a Demiguise that can't disappear?', 'Do you think I could have taken Lestrange in a fight?', 'Would you love me if I was a worm?'). Every single question is met with a wand pointed at the door, and a stern 'Get out' and Professor Silva always does, always obeys and leaves.

But on the one time Professor Young doesn't see her rival, and Professor Silva doesn't try to tease her, they see another side of the whole banter. Professor Silva falls asleep with her arms crossed on the table, nose scunched into her elbow, and Professor Young doesn't say anything, doesn't awknowledge it, just takes off her tweed jacket and wraps it around her colleague's shoulders, not even stopping in her lesson. Professor Silva sleeps until the end of the class, and the students linger in the doorway, watching as Professor Young goes up to her table, and (softly) slams her hands on the table. Professor Silva wakes up with a start, looking around with wild eyes and messy hair, as Professor Young giggles — giggles! —, looking mockingly at her colleague.

'It seems like you fell asleep, Professor Silva.'

Professor Silva just buries her face back in her arms, giving her the middle finger, and Professor Young ushers them out when she realizes they're still here.

That's the weird side of the whole thing. Because their banter and teasing and yelling match in the Great Hall is being challenged by other things they do.

Like that one time Halo falls from Professor Silva's shoulder and she all but flings herself out of the window to catch him, gripping the edge at the last second. It's the first year that she's teaching at that moment and they all start yelling and screaming and try to pull her up but they're just eleven year old with scrawny bodies and even thiner arms. The door bursts open, slamming on the wall behind it, and Professor Young makes her way throug the students, iron hands on their shoulders to push them away. How she even know where Professor Silva is is beyond them, but she leans over the opening, letting the edge bury itself into her stomach, grips Professor Silva's wrists and pulls her up, twisting her fingers in the fabric of her jacket, of her belt, not even wasting a second to mock her. Professor Silva falls to the ground, panting, and Professor Young kneels next to her, putting her hands on her shoulder and looking at her in the eyes. 'Are you okay?' She asks. Professor Silva nods, and that's when the yelling begins. Professor Young doesn't even seem to notice that her students have left her classroom and are now calming the first years down, rumors and whispers swirling into the room. Professor Silva doesn't listen, she pats herself until a whistle answer her, and Halo emerges from one of her pockets. 'He flew out of the window,' Professor Silva explains, and Professor Young stays quiet for a few moments. 'So what,' she says, 'If Halo jumped off a bridge, would you follow him?!'. She grumbles and groans and Professor Silva doesn't answer, quiet for once, and the students look at each other with surprise, because not only does Professor Young know the Bowtruck's name, she uses it like she's done it before.

There is also the time where, for once, it's Professor Young's door that swings open, but it's a man that enters. He has Professor Young's eyes and her freckles and he immediately starts yelling and Professor Young just looks at him, quiet, rendered speechless by shock. All Hell breaks loose when Professor Silva runs from her own classroom and jumps into Professor Young's and all but tackles the man to the ground. That's when everyone starts screaming, the students rise and panic, Professor Young orders for them to leave in between frantic 'Ava!' as Professor Silva grabs the man by the collar and hits and Professor Young slams the door behind them. They know they should leave and not stay in front of the door, but everyone wants to be ready to fight too, if needed. Headmistress Superion makes her way down the corridor, all of the teacher arguing behind her (Professor Villaumbrosia yells things like 'I'm going to kill that bastard!' and Professor Salvius tries to reason with her as Professor Delcán cheers her on and Mary — Hogwarts gamekeeper whose real name has been lost in time — is being physically held back by her wife, Professor Shannon Master, as Professor Amulet asks how he even got in). When they open the door, the man is already gone, and Professor Silva sits on Professor Young's desk, swinging her legs as she's performing healing charms on her. Professor Young looks annoyed, mad and tired, but Professor Silva seems calmer, sweeter and also a little bit insane, like she's planning a murder in her head. (Rumours would later reveal that that man is Professor Young's brother, who works at the Ministry of Magic at a very high position and they all promise each other to make his life a living Hell, if they ever were to work in the same department as him.)

There is also that one time when Professor Silva takes them into the Forbidden Forest to practice some ground training and they get attacked by an acromantula. They all make it out without a scratch, except for Professor Silva, who throws herself straight into danger to make sure that none of them will even be touched by a single thing. She promises that she's okay, but she still needs to lean on Diego to walk, the boy letting her put an arm around his shoulder and almost carrying her out. When they make it out of the woods, Professor Young is running towards them, wand gripped between her fingers, some strands of hair flying around her face as she crosses the expance of grass. They don't even know how she knew where they were or that they had gotten attacked, but it doesn't matter as she screams 'Ava!', voice breaking and tearing the air around as soon as she realizes who Diego is carrying. Professor Silva straightens up, she lets go of Diego right as Professor Young catches her in her arms, panicked, terrified. Professor Silva keeps saying that she's okay, but Professor Young doesn't let her out of the infirmary for three days (they sneak her chocolate and 'get-well' cards and ask if her wife is going to be okay without her — Professor Silva laughs so hard her ribs hurt and Professor Young enters the room and yells at them for being here).

They learn about Professor Young's family one fateful Thursday morning, when she enters the room smelling faintly of smoke and with bags under her eyes, a single strand of hair escaping of her bun and framing her face. She's wearing the sweater of a Quidditch team with a curupira for a mascot that they all know is not hers (She might be the smartest person in this school, but the woman doesn't know shit about Quidditch, no matter how much good will she put into learning). She starts the lesson just like she usually does, and if their silence weirds her out, she doesn't awknowledge it. It's Rose Granger that takes one for the team and shyly raises her hand. 'Yes, Miss Granger?' Professor Young asks. 'I'm sorry if it's innapropriate, professor, but are you okay?'. They're all hanging to her lips, and she looks around, wondering if dismissing the question would really bring her peace.

She sighs, rubs the bridge of her nose.

"My wife tried to set the kitchen on fire last night."

She freezes as soon as the words have left her mouth, suddenly blanching and looking up at them, wild panic in her eyes and her chest still, as if she has stopped breathing. Nobody says a word, until...

"Did she do it on purpose?" Diego asks, raising his hand but not waiting for her solicitation.

Professor Young looks around, chest still unmoving.

"I... Don't think so. She's... A really bad cook."

They all laugh at that, and Professor Young grips her wand like she's about to bolt out the door.

"You should introduce her to Professor Silva," Rose suggests.

"Are you crazy?!" Lorcan Scamander says, eyes wide with fear. "They would burn Hogwarts to the ground!"

Everyone laughs even harder, and even Professor Young laughs a little, bringing a shaky hand to her mouth as if trying to retain her smile. But she's breathing again and colors have made their way back onto her face and she sits down at her desk because she looks like she cannot stand on her wobbly legs, but nobody says a word.

"That would be a really bad idea," she says, before continuing with her lesson.

Of course, they are children, they don't let their teacher off the hook that easily.

They eat up every single information they can get on Professor Young's wife, even if she doesn't say much. They know that she likes Quidditch and she has a tendency to spill things on Professor Young's clothes. They know she's trying to bully her into getting a Niffler and that she wants to use said Niffler to wreak havoc into her brother's office, like Professor Young says it relutanctly, it seems, looking away from them as if she's too scared to see their reaction .

How Professor Young could even live with someone that chaotic is a mystery, a miracle. She can barely survive when Professor Silva drops a muddy pair of gloves on her spotless desk, how can she live through someone going through her closet and stealing every single one of her clothes? But Professor Young loves her wife, they see it in the glimmer in her eyes when she talks about her, how she shyly tucks her non-existent loose strand of hair back, blushing slightly like a schoolgirl and then squinting suspiciously at them when she realizes they managed to lose five minutes of their lessons getting her to talk about her wife.

Professor Young's admission is like a fire being lit up; suddenly, some students who were once too scared to admit who they are, to show who they really are are getting the courage to do so and only receive kindness as an answer. The Slytherins hold a 'gender reveal' party for a boy that just came out, Hufflepuffs start a business of colorful flags and pins, Ravenclaw gather money to buy a transgender girl her fist skirt and Gryffindors start taping little notes of encouragement on the walls. An ungoing jokes runs around the castle, and everyone is wondering who will be the next to come out or to start dating someone. Professor Salvius blurts out that he's dating Hogsmead's bartender when they tease him, and it takes them a few seconds to realize Hans is definitely not a girl's name, Professor Amunet lets out a gay joke in the middle of the class and then tries desperately to get them to quiet down as if she is going to get in trouble, Professor Delcán says that she doesn't have a preference for any gender when asked like it's the most natural thing in the world. Mary flips them off when they tease her for being completely smitten with her wife, earning herself a slap on the back of the head from said wife, yelling at them that they are just jealous because her wife is hot and they can't yell back because Professor Matters is undeniably pretty.

They know the world has changed when they see a little rainbow flag hidden in the corner of Professor Young's blackboard.

And when Professor Villaumbrosia catches them talking about sending a 'mockery pride flag' to Professor Young's brother, she doesn't report them. She just gives them his address.

Professor Silva keeps working her magical chaos until she comes in one day tired and nervous and disheveled like she slept in her clothes.

Usually that means that she has convinced her wife to do something crazy and unhinged like suddenly decide to 'run away together' ('When life gets too hard, you gotta know when to take a break,' she had said wisely when explaining that ritual 'The first time I asked her to run away, she refused, and both of us regretted it very deeply after that.'). Usually they would pack a few clothes and pretend to never be coming back, just for a few hours, and go wherever they wanted (the mountains in Switzerland, the beach in Spain, a lake in France or some remote village in Portugal). They would always come back, once the world seemed brighter and lighter, and Professor Silva would always be much more calm (which helped Professor Young too, apparently, because then she didn't have to yell at her to stop blowing things up) ( there was also the scandalous rumor that Professor Silva would also be 'getting laid' during those days, but hey, they were teenagers, rumous were their best form of entertainement.)

But that day, she comes in barely human, looking like she just crawled out of an Occamy's nest, and they all know that something is deeply and profoundly wrong.

"My wife is sick," she admits after looking at the bare board for five minutes without finding the chalk in her hand. "I had to fight her to stay at home today."

They all know she would rather be with her today, and so they do what kids do best: they make stupid decisions. She only teaches Gryffindor that day, and so they all gather around and use a Wealsey's Skiving Snackbox and soon they are swarming the infirmary with fake illnesses. Headmistress Superion herself comes down to see what's going on, and sighs deeply.

"It seems like there is a flu going around here," she says. "Truly tragic. It looks like you won't have any students attending your classes today," she tells Professor Silva who looks like she doesn't know whether or not to panic or thank them.

She runs back to her mysterious wife and Headmistress Superion looks away when they all start getting better fifteen minutes after she left.

Professor Young too, seems to be getting down with the flu. But she's not here for them to tell her it's a fake illness.

The secret is broken during an uneventful summer, as Diego is being dragged by his dads to a bar in Hogsmead. He whines and says there is no way he's getting any closer than sixty-thousand feet to school during summer break, but his fathers don't falter.

And that's how he ends up sitting in front of a Butterbeer (which is not really that bad) in the middle of a bar, with his parents talking to some of their friends as he sulks in a corner (later, he'll wonder why he was even mad at all, there weren't any bad side to that adventure).

He's gulping down the content of his glass when something catches his eyes and he can't look away.

It's Professor Young, sitting at a table with her hands folded onto her lap. She's wearing a short-sleeved button-down and her hair is down and she looks younger, softer and lighter, like every worry that was once crinckling her brow has melted away, only leaving a young woman trying to enjoy her life. She doesn't seem out of place, because Professor Young is never out of place, but it feels strange to think of her as Professor Young, like the title is a coat she sheds off when going home. She's playing pensively with the alliance around her finger, lost in her own thoughts.

Diego is thinking about whether he really values his own life before going up and saying hi, when the world breaks.

Because a woman plops down next to her, so close she's almost onto her lap, putting two glasses onto the table and Professor Young smiles and laughs as she catches the drinks and makes sure they don't spill. She wraps her arm around Professor Young's shoulder and throws her head back and laugh, short hair bouncing around her head, and Professor Young looks at her, looks at her like she's the only thing in the world, like she's a fire and Professor Young is a salamander reaching for warmth.

And Diego knows he sould stop staring, knows he should look away, but he can't, mouth hanging open.

Because, halfway on Professor Young's lap, losing her own cardigan and rambling like she's reciting a goddamn novel is Professor Silva. Professor Silva and her clumsiness, Professor Silva and her ability to set things on fire, Professor Silva who knows exactly which buttons to push and how to get away with it.

Curupiras are the brazilian Quidditch team's mascot, and Diego cannot believe how stupid teenagers are. Because all this time, the answer was right in front of their noses.

And as he watches the way they look at each other, he realizes that this is perfect just the way it is. Perhaps they don't want all of their students to know. Perhaps they're just playing their own tricks on them.

It doesn't matter. Diego is happy, and his heart swells in his chest and he feels like he can take on the world.

He doesn't know who sees him first, Professor Young or Professor Silva, but suddenly they're looking at him, surprised to see him there. Professor Young blushes and buries her face into Professor Silva's shoulder, who laughs and raises her arm to wave at him, nearly knocking their drinks that Professor Young catches without even looking, like she has built muscle memory around her wife's clumsiness.

He raises a finger to his lips, he won't tell a soul, and Professor Silva smiles as she wraps her arms around her wife, and sends him a knowing wink.

Professor Silva keeps disrupting Professor Young's classes, and her wife loves her for it.

("Good luck," Diego would tell his little sister years later, watching from the corner of his eyes as two women with matching alliance would try to convince a child to get into the train and not into the baggage wagon. He wouldn't even try to explain himself as his little sister would look at him like he had lost his damn mind. "And tell Professor Silva to go easy on her wife this year. I don't think we can all survive the three of them in the same school.")

[solemnly-mischievous]

rivalry (d.m. x reader)

You and Draco Malfoy have a rocky relationship, at best. It'd be better to describe it as a rivalry. But all it takes is a bit of fire from your end to finally make him snap.

(AKA: I just really wanted to write an enemies-to-lovers trope for my first fic.)

A/N: Hi! First fic. Hope you like it. :)

Contains: Degradation, slight edging, d/s elements, slight dub-con (but not really; full consent is clearly given), light humiliation

Word count: 3.9K

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Normally, Defense Against the Dark Arts would be your favorite class. The spells you learn are fun and useful; Professor Lupin is always a plus, and most importantly, you’re good at the subject—so bloody good, you’ve bested even Hermione and Harry multiple times.

But lately, you’ve been finding yourself dreading the lessons. So much, in fact, that you were half-considering asking Hermione to hex you just to get out of your afternoon class.

Why? It’s a pretty easy answer when you got down to it.

Draco Malfoy.

You’d had an ongoing rivalry with the git since third grade. He’s been terrorizing you and your friends, mostly because of Harry, but along the way the two of you had begun building a personal vendetta.

(He probably hasn’t quite yet forgiven you for hexing him so badly he’d had to stay in the Infirmary for weeks, and you certainly haven’t forgiven him for causing your friends so much grief over the years.)

This year, you’d thought you could try your best to avoid him, with your upcoming N.E.W.T.s and all. But DADA had other plans.

Professor Lupin had begun experimenting with mixing up partners for class—it was, after all, a very hands-on class—and had apparently decided that cross-house interaction would build bonds and skill. His exact words were, “If they’re your friend, you’re gonna go easier on them. In the real world, you never know who you’re fighting with—or against.”

So he’d randomized the name list. You, being Gryffindor, knew immediately you wouldn’t be with any of your closest friends—but you hoped that perhaps you’d be paired with Cedric, or Luna, or anyone but—

“Your partner is Draco Malfoy,” Professor Lupin informed you when he got to your name, and you immediately make to protest.

“Her?” a voice came just as you complained “Not him”, and the students parted to reveal Draco himself, glaring daggers at you and Lupin.

“Yes, her,” Lupin replied, unruffled. “Now, pair up, everyone. We’re practicing Stunning today.”

That day, you’d fucking limped out of the classroom. Not to say Draco had gotten it easier—he could barely stand after you Disarmed, Stunned, and hit him with a nasty stinger hex just for the sake of it. (You’d gotten detention, but it was worth it.)

Today’s your second class with Malfoy, and you’ve never wanted more to be able to commit violent actions in your life.

“Please,” you whisper to Hermione as your group enter the DADA classroom. “Just one hex. I won’t even go to Pomfrey. No witnesses. You could just Petrify me, if that’s more to your liking.”

She sighs. “I’m not going to Petrify you.”

“’Mione,” you say, scandalized. “I thought we were friends.”

“Pair up, everyone,” Lupin calls out. Your friends shuffle away and you close your eyes, already getting a headache from the thought of—

“Well, well.” That fucking smarmy voice. “If it isn’t Potter’s little friend.”

“If it isn’t Daddy’s boy,” you snap, opening your eyes and glaring at Malfoy, who already has his wand out. “Bugger off, Malfoy.”

“Afraid I can’t do that.” Draco’s eyes narrow. Clearly, he’s as displeased with the situation as you are. “What are we doing today, then? Can’t wait to knock you down a few notches. Star of the class, my—”

“Patronuses!” Professor Lupin announces from across the room, and your heart soars—Patronuses, you could do that. Harry, months earlier, had taught you how to perfect a corporeal form in exchange for tips on his Astronomy essay. He isn’t here today—maybe you could be the only one in the class to do it.

Lupin continues, “Yes, the Patronus—an essential in the world of Defense magic. We’ll be starting with just the simple basics of it. A strong flick of the wand, and the words ‘Expecto Patronum!’. Say it with me, everyone.”

You chorus the words obediently along with the class, Malfoy’s snort of derision not going unnoticed.

“Good. Good, good, now—the key to the Patronus is to think of a happy memory. It has to be strong. Remember, Dementors feed on misery—it’s the only way to keep them away. Now, go practice. I’ll be walking around to see if there’s any problems.”

“Expecto Patronom,” Malfoy repeats in a mocking voice once the classroom starts filling with the chants of fellow students. “Doesn’t Potter know how to do that one? Heard he can do a deer. Pretty weak animal if you ask me—”

“A stag,” you correct. “And it’s Patronum, not Patronom.”

He glares at you again. “Think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

“Certainly smarter than you are.” You glance at him. “Though that’s not saying much, is it?”

You give Fred Weasley, who’d circled around to hear the conversation, a not-discreet fist-bump.

“Alright then.” Malfoy spits out your last name, trying to provoke you. “Let’s see you do it.”

“You try,” you suggest, hiding your smirk. “Unless you’re too scared.”

Draco grits his teeth. Unwilling to back down from a challenge, he brandishes his wand. “Expecto Patronum!”

A thin, wispy light appears at the end of his wand—weak, but clearly visible. Classmates around you murmur as they notice it, and Professor Lupin beams as he sees Draco’s doing. “Very good, Draco! A fantastic start.”

Draco flicks his wand smugly and the Patronus charm dissipates. He smirks, shooting you an expectant look.

You take out your wand, feeling its familiar grip, and you close your eyes. You recall the memory of a weekend in Hogsmeade with your friends, drinking Butterbeer as you stroll through the snowy village, pointing out the shops and people. Unconsciously, you smile.

“Expecto Patronum!”

Light blazes so bright you can see it under closed eyes, and you open them to find a glowing golden retriever prancing out the end of your wand. It bounds around in the air joyfully, leaving a trail of light where it leaps, and circles the classroom, eventually coming back to you and wagging its tail.

Professor Lupin is grinning, utterly delighted as he takes in your Patronus. Calling your name, he exclaims, “That is phenomenal—you’ve learned fast. Very impressive job!”

You smile back, and your Patronus glows lighter in response. You quickly call it off, the light being a bit too much, and the rest of the class passes by in a haze of awed murmurs and classmates asking your advice on their spellwork. You become so preoccupied, you don’t even notice Draco’s unrelenting stare on your back.

The class ends fast, the bell tolling to signify the start of what would be a study period for you. As students trail out of the classroom, chattering happily, Professor Lupin calls you over.

“Listen, I want you to know that what you did today was truly impressive,” he says, seriously. “I assume Harry laid out the groundwork, yes?”

You nod. He smiles. “You and Harry both are very accomplished students, then. But truly—I doubt many Aurors could’ve managed what you did today.”

“Thank you, Professor.” Your words are sincere.

“My pleasure.” Professor Lupin shoots you an apologetic look. “Now, I’m terribly sorry, but I have off-grounds business to attend to—would you mind setting the classroom to rights? I’m afraid I had to push the desks and chairs back for our class, but I don’t have time to put them back. I’ll write you a note, if you—”

“Oh, no, Professor, don’t worry, it’s a study period. I’d be glad to help.”

“Thank you,” he says, relieved, already heading out the door. “Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I’ll bring chocolate to compensate!”

“Goodbye, Professor!” you call, and he echoes it, and then he’s gone. You look around the classroom, seeing all the desks in the back, and you crack your knuckles. Time to get to work.

“Well. Quite the teacher’s pet, aren’t we?”

Merlin’s fucking beard.

“Bloody hell, Malfoy,” you mutter, turning around to find him leaning against the classroom doorframe. His blond hair glints silver in the sunlight, and his entire outline—his uniform, his stance, his dark gaze—is just… honestly, unfairly attractive.

So maybe your first impression of Draco Malfoy, years ago, wasn’t that he was a self-entitled git. Maybe, just maybe, you’d thought he was the prettiest boy you’d ever seen.

And maybe that feeling never went away.

Not that you’d let him know that.

“What are you doing here?”

“Study period.” He starts walking towards you, shutting the door behind him. “Couldn’t help but be curious as to what Lupin wanted with you.”

“What’s it to you?” you snap. Malfoy doesn’t reply.

“Why do you insist on being so difficult?” he asks instead, and you blink.

“Me?” you splutter. “Difficult? Fat lot of sense that makes, with you fucking insulting me at every move I make—”

“As I recall, our first interaction was you hexing me in third-year.” Malfoy sounds amused.

“You pushed Harry into the lake,” you snap at him. “You bloody well deserved it.”

Draco laughs. “Good times.”

“Malfoy, what the bloody hell are you doing here?”

“You’ve got quite a mouth.”

“My mouth is also capable of jinxing you three ways to Friday, so I suggest you leave me alone, yeah?” Your fingers twitch towards your wand in preparation, and he only looks on with derision.

“I’m just frightened,” Malfoy sneers. You barely notice him slipping off his rings, pocketing them. “Potter taught you that Patronus charm, didn’t he?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Nothin’. Just wondering what else he taught you.” A vengeful mood seems to have taken Draco. “You seem to hang out with him an awful lot.”

“It’s called having friends,” you snap right back. He looks as though he’s about to retort, but you push on. “Unfamiliar with the concept? Wouldn’t be surprised. Crabbe and Goyle don’t seem like the best conversationalists, are they? Just a couple of goons. Wonder why you don’t have better friends. Friends you can actually talk to who operate with more than one braincell.”

“Shut—”

“Maybe it’s because no one wants to be near you,” you continue, years of pent up frustration spilling out in a vitriolic spiel. “Because you’re a miserable bastard who doesn’t know how to be happy, aren’t you? You drive everyone away and then you go after more because you’re lonely and sad and fucking pathetic—”

“Shut up,” Malfoy repeats with a vehemence.

“—and it’s too fucking late to repair the damage you’ve done—”

“Shut up,” Malfoy snarls, and you stare into his narrowed eyes.

“Fucking make me,” you snap back, and he lunges.

You’re pinned against the wall of the classroom, Malfoy’s wand to your throat and a hand fisting your robes to render you immobile. Draco flicks his wand, ever-so-slightly, and you hear the classroom door lock with a wordless spell.

“Malfoy,” you whisper, but he cuts you off.

“Shut the fuck up or I swear you’ll bloody regret it,” he hisses.

“Draco,” you begin, and he curses.

“Fuck it.”

Gripping your robes, he leans in and kisses you.

It’s rough and demanding and you think he’s trying to hurt you, with how much his teeth scrape against your bottom lip and bite down gently, but you’re not pulling away, he’s not pulling away, and you find yourself leaning into the kiss, arching up to meet him—

He breaks away and looks at you, smirking.

“If I’d known that’s what it would take for you to shut your bloody mouth, I’d have done it years ago.”

“Let me go, Malfoy,” you say shakily, but even as he loosens his grip slightly, you show no sign of moving.

“If you’d wanted to leave you’d have Stunned me long ago,” he states, truthfully. Your wand is fully in reach. You know how to do wordless spells. And yet you let him kiss you.

“Shut up,” you grumble, still not moving.

“I think, perhaps,” Draco murmurs, glancing down at your body, “you’re enjoying this.”

“No,” you argue, and his wand digs into your neck—not enough to hurt but enough to register.

“Shh,” Draco hushes, almost condescendingly. “Be quiet, now. That’s a good girl.”

Involuntarily, you shudder at his words. They made your legs weak, and you fight off the urge to audibly whimper—what the hell’s gotten into you?

Maybe he won’t notice. Maybe he hasn’t noticed.

Of fucking course he notices.

“Oh?” The shit-eating smirk on his face is enough to make you glare absolute daggers at him. “Don’t give me that. You shivered. You liked it.”

“Shut up,” you say again, with no real strength.

“Don’t you want to be my good girl, sweetheart?” he teases cruelly, and you have to close your eyes to fight off the blush. It doesn’t work, and your face grows hot with embarrassment and arousal.

“Dear me,” Draco says mockingly. “What happened to the spitfire from minutes ago, hm? Still feeling like saying those words to me? Still feeling like being bad?”

Inadvertently, you shake your head.

“Who’s pathetic now?” he mocks, grinning, letting his wand trail a cold path down your neck, over your collarbone, until it rests on the top button of your uniform. “May I?”

The question sounds mocking, but he meets your gaze and you know he’s honestly asking for permission. And you give it to him, nodding, even as your blush deepens. Draco undoes your buttons, one by one, with tiny flicks of his wand, until your shirt is fully unbuttoned and you’re exposed to his gaze.

Draco shoves his wand into his belt and pushes your bra out of the way with an almost laughable urgency, getting a full, appreciative look at your breasts. “So fucking pretty,” he murmurs. “Shame they belong to such a fucking headache, hm?”

You grumble some sort of an insult, and Draco pinches a nipple, which shuts you up effectively. “That’s what I thought.”

His hands trail down to your skirt, and instead of undoing the button he leans down and scoops the fabric up. “Here, be good and useful and hold this for me.”

The indifferent praise and the degradation combined has you obeying immediately, hoisting your skirt up and baring yourself to him, which only adds to an eddying swirl of shame and arousal pooling in your gut. Draco looks at you, stares, really, and it’s with a predatory grin that he reaches over to caress you through your panties.

“Soaked,” he observes, sounding both amused and satisfied. “You always get off this much to being treated like a right slut, then?”

“Draco,” you whine, bucking your hips up into his almost phantom touch. “Come on.”

“Is that how we ask nicely?” Oh, this bloody git. You’ll never be able to look at him again—he’s going to be so fucking smug around you.

When you don’t answer, he withdraws his touch completely, and you make a sound of protest. “No, no, please.”

“Go on.”

“Please touch me,” you try, but it’s hard to focus when you’re so goddamn wet you’re soaking through your panties.

“Not quite,” Draco muses. He’s palming himself through his trousers, and the sight turns you on impossibly more. “Come on, then—convince me.”

“Draco, please touch me,” you beg. One of your hands drift down to your panties but he slaps it away immediately, shooting you a warning look. “Please!”

“Touch you where?” He wants you to say it.

“Touch my cunt, please, Draco, fuck, I’m so wet it hurts,” you beg, and it’s true—you’re aching with arousal, and if he doesn’t touch you within the next few seconds you think you really just might combust. “Please, please touch me, I’ll be good, I’ll do whatever you want, just touch me.”

“If only the school could see you now,” he sneers, but even he seems to break his self-control and he tugs your panties down harshly, all but ripping them off. “Baring yourself to me and begging to be touched like a whore.”

“I’m not—oh,” you gasp, his fingers pressing into your cunt immediately and his thumb working on your clit, sending waves of pleasure so potent you almost double over. His fingers are long and thin, which is why he can press two in without preamble, and the stretch is barely noticeable.

“You’re not what? A whore?” Draco laughs. “Please. Look at yourself.”

“’m not,” you insist, but you clench around his fingers at his words and he raises an eyebrow.

“I think you’re lying.” He presses a third finger in and you whine, little sounds of pleasure escaping your lips as he works you open. “Quieter, now, or I’ll have to gag you.”

You bite your lip, and Draco thumbs your clit as a reward and incentive. “Now, tell me what you are. Be truthful, or I won’t fuck you. I’ll leave, leave you here with your shirt hanging open and your skirt up, the doors wide open. Maybe the next bloke who stumbles in might help you.”

Your eyes widen—he wouldn’t. But his gaze is dead serious. “Say it.”

“I’m a whore,” you breathe, and he thrusts his fingers into you, hitting that right spot. “Draco!”

“Say it louder,” he orders, angling his fingers and curling them.

“I’m a whore,” you moan out, bucking your hips upwards—you’re close, you’re so close. “Draco, I—”

He stops moving, and his other hand pinches your clit harshly. “No.”

You let out a gasp of shock and hurt, reeling from the denial and pleasure. “But—”

“You’re not fucking coming until I say so,” Draco hisses, undoing his belt and pushing his trousers down. “And I’m not saying so until I properly fuck you into a bloody wreck.”

His cock is already hard, and he positions himself right at your entrance. You can feel him, his tip pressed against your wetness, but not pushing in. “Draco—”

“I think,” he muses, and you want to scream, “one day I’ll drag you into a broom closet. Fuck your throat so hard you won’t be able to talk for the day. You’ll look pretty, don’t you think?”

“Please—”

“Or I’ll bring you back to my dorm, so I can fuck you until you’re screaming yourself hoarse,” Draco says thoughtfully. “Your dorm works. So long as I can ruin you.”

“Malfoy—”

“Because it’s just so—” and he pushes into you in one swift movement, fucking into you immediately with a fast and rough rhythm, “—fucking nice to see you being a slut for me.”

“Fuck!” You grind your hips along with his rhythm, feeling the tightness of your cunt around his cock, and you clench as he hits your sweet spot with the right angle, almost shaking with the pleasure that it gives you.

Draco groans your name, fucking you brutally as he chases his own release, already pent-up from the teasing and the sight of your wrecked state. “’m gonna come on your tits, would you like that? Get it all fucking messy, maybe get some into your mouth, get you fucking ruined?”

“Please, please, fuck, please let me come,” you plead him, feeling your impending orgasm barrel towards you—you couldn’t last, you can’t fucking last—

“Fucking hold it,” Draco snaps. “Hold it like a good fucking girl, you understand?”

You let out a mournful sound, but you nod—yes, I’ll be good, I’ll be good, please—

“Salazar, I’m fucking close,” Malfoy breathes into your ear, his voice rough and strained. “You feel so good, love, so bloody tight.”

“Please,” you whimper, not even sure what you’re pleading for at this point. Draco exhales shakily and curses, pulling out and pushing you to your knees with such a force that you drop down, your skirt being the only padding.

“Wh—?” you try to ask, but Draco is already pumping his cock and then he’s coming all over your face, some of it dripping down to paint your breasts as he’d promised. Draco leans down to gather some release on a finger and pushes it into your mouth, eyes darkening as you suck and swallow around it.

“Good girl,” he praises, and you almost come right there.

“Draco, please,” you beg, still on your knees and still absolutely fucking desperate for release that he’s been denying you for the past half hour. “Please let me—”

“Alright, spread your legs, c’mon,” Draco guides, and you obey and then he’s there, thumb rubbing steady circles around your clit and two fingers pushing inside you once more. You whine and grind into his fingers, his touch, hips following his movement as he pushes you closer—closer—

“Fuck!” you sob as he senses your impending orgasm and stills his hand. “No—no, why?”

You sound like a petulant child and Draco laughs at you, and it’s an unfair move and a mean sound but it somehow turns you on even more. “I’m just messing, sweetheart.”

Fuck you, you badly want to say, but somehow you feel like that won’t get you what you want.

Draco starts moving again, his fingers gaining speed, and the sound of them pumping in and out of your soaked cunt sounds delightfully dirty. You’re quickly pushed to the edge again, and amidst your pleasure you eye Draco distrustfully.

“Please,” you whisper, and he smirks at you.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.”

And he thumbs your clit and you’re coming, gasping with the pleasure and shaking as he eases you through it. His fingers don’t stop moving, even after your orgasm has faded, and you squirm in discomfort as he overstimulates you.

“Stop—please—”

“Promise me you won’t be a bloody pain again,” Draco levels at you, and you want to glare back but his fingers curl inside of you and you yelp with pleasure and pain. “Promise me, or I’ll keep going.”

“I—I won’t be a pain,” you mumble, trying to squeeze your thighs together to get rid of his touch, but he perseveres, flicking your clit mercilessly.

“Say you’ll be good.”

“I’ll be good,” you manage, so close to sobbing from the frustration. “Please, Draco, I’ll be good, be good for you, please stop.”

He relents and you feel him draw his hand back. You close your eyes and you hear him tug his trousers back on, buckling his belt. You feel strangely empty without him—without his fingers, his cock, his touch.

Draco produces a handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the sweat, drool, and cum off your face, helping you button your shirt back up as well. “You alright?”

“Never better,” you reply, opening your eyes to see him staring at you in concern, all traces of the cruel tease earlier gone. Outside, the sun is setting, casting orange hues into the classroom, and you suddenly remember. “I—oh, bloody hell, I have to arrange the desks for Lupin—”

“I’ll do it. Stay here.”

Draco stands up and takes out his wand, flicking it twice in quick succession. A wordless spell. As you watch, the desks and chairs slide back to where they used to be, neatly arranging themselves in rows.

You’re impressed as he comes back. “What spell is—hey!”

He’s flicked his wand once more and torn your panties clean off your legs.

“Draco—what in Merlin—”

“A souvenir.” Malfoy smirks, stuffing your soaked panties into the pocket of his trousers. “And payment for the desks.”

“You’re a bloody prick,” you say, leaning your head back against the wall.

“Careful now, love. Remember what you promised.” Draco’s tone is playful, but warning. “I’m a man of my word, so you should choose yours carefully. Next time I won’t be as gentle.”

Caught off-guard, you can only nod obediently, which seems to please him. But you can’t promise you won’t slip back into old habits the very next day. Whatever the case, one thing was clear—there would almost certainly be a next time.

------

Requests & asks are open! Here is the guide on requests, if you'd like to check that out first. Hope you enjoyed!

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 4: Jealousy

Draco had a jealous streak a mile wide. He always had, for as long as he could remember. His jealous streak had given him plenty of things; jealousy was an excellent motivator.

But his jealousy had never felt quite like this.

In the past, he'd been jealous of tangible things: attention, possessions, grades, etc. Lately, though, Draco had found himself becoming jealous over increasingly inexplicable things. Most (all) of those things having to do with Potter. He was jealous of the normal things, too, like people who casually touched him, or the way Weasley could make him laugh, or the attention he bestowed on Granger when she was talking about her latest campaign. In all honesty, there was nothing new about those things.

But one day, while they were in training together, Draco found himself jealous of the rain.

(More below the cut)

Jealous of the rain as he watched Potter tip his head back and spread his arms to accept it. Jealous of the way the rain was allowed to touch his skin, of the way Potter opened himself up to it and allowed himself to relax under its ministrations.

On the day they received their auror uniforms he found himself jealous of the clothes that the other man put on his body. Jealous of the way the trousers hugged his strong thighs, jealous of the way his robes stretched across his broad shoulders. Jealous of the closeness that Draco had never been afforded.

He found himself quite preoccupied one afternoon as they sat filling out paperwork, jealous of the pen that Potter kept sticking in his mouth. He was jealous of the absentminded caress of lips and tongue, of the sharp nip of his teeth.

At night he found himself jealous of not only the people whom Potter could, theoretically, be spending the night with but also of the thought of his pillows and sheets. Jealous of the way that Potter must allow himself to be completely vulnerable to them; glasses removed, face lax as he slept. Something in Draco surged with a fierce longing at imagining seeing Potter with all of his walls torn down.

He found himself jealous of the work they did. Jealous of the way it consumed Potter's attention, of the way that Potter poured everything he had, everything he was, into solving the crimes set before them.

Draco was jealous of the wind. Jealous of the way it tousled Potter's already messy hair, tugging the curls back from his face.

He'd even been jealous of Potter's own hand earlier that day. Jealous of the way Potter had folded his hands, fingers slotting between each other, as they sat across from their perpetrator. He'd ached to feel the incongruity of the tender skin between his fingers and the callouses on his fingertips and palms.

Most of all, though, Draco was jealous of the way that Potter seemed to be happy. Not because he didn't want Potter to be happy; he did want him to be happy, he deserved to be happy. But because Potter seemed to be happy without Draco and Draco wasn't sure that he would ever be happy without knowing the way that Potter tasted, knowing the way he smelled, knowing the way his muscles felt as they shifted under his palms. He didn't know if he could ever be happy without knowing what Potter looked like when his guard was down, or knowing how his voice sounded when he was completely relaxed.

"You're staring again," Weasley said, snapping Draco's attention back from where he'd been watching Potter as he fetched a round for the team of aurors who'd just wrapped up a very challenging case.

"I'm not," he protested. It was a lie and they both knew it.

Weasley narrowed his eyes at him, "You could just ask him out, you know."

"Why would I do that?"

He rolled his eyes, "So the rest of us can stop watching you pine after one another. It's distracting."

His heart clenched painfully, the way it always did when someone (usually Weasley, damn him) suggested that perhaps this wasn't as one sided as it felt like it was. Shaking his head, he replied, "He's not interested."

"How would you know?" Weasley asked. "I've been his best mate for almost our entire lives. I think I'd know better than you."

"Well, then maybe he should use a bit of the famous Gryffindor courage and ask me," he said with a haughty sniff as he took a sip of his firewhiskey.

Weasley rolled his eyes and was about to reply when Potter came over, levitating a dozen drinks in his wake.

After setting down the drinks on the table with an impressive display of control, Potter plopped down in the seat between Draco and Weasley. Draco watch jealously as Potter leaned against Weasley, pressing their shoulders together for a long moment as though he was drawing strength from the other man.

The table was loud and rowdy, nearly full of Gryffindors, and Draco wondered (not for the first time) how he'd managed to find himself almost constantly surrounded by their brash, obnoxious selves.

Potter was quiet next to him, as Draco had noticed he often was, listening to the others, laughing and sharing in their joy; quietly supporting and encouraging them to be their most authentic selves.

It always made Draco want to tell them all to shut up. To just be quiet for a minute and let Potter talk, let him be himself, because if he was being honest he wanted to know everything about Potter. He wanted to know what made him tick, what brought him joy, what made him weep, what made him laugh. He wanted to know why he chose to be an auror when he could have done anything. He wanted to know his favorite song, his favorite book, his favorite meal. He wanted to know everything.

When the desire to grasp Potter by the hand and make him tell him everything became too strong, Draco stood up (rather abruptly) and made his way out of the bar, muttering "cigarette" to the table as an excuse.

Outside, he leaned against the wall and lit up his cigarette, exhaling shakily as it caught. The warm summer breeze did him good, helped to settle his racing mind. He took a long, slow drag and held the smoke in his lungs for a moment, relishing the way it burned a bit and the way his slow inhale helped him to calm further.

Fuck Potter, fuck this, he thought sullenly. This was all getting out of hand, it was too much, even for him.

"Terrible habit."

Draco's head snapped around to see Potter leaning his shoulder against the wall a few feet from Draco, watching him intently. "You should get louder shoes," Draco commented, blowing a stream of smoke from his lips, "or a bell," he added, picturing the kind you tie around a cat's neck.

Potter laughed, free and unfettered, and Draco basked in it like sunlight. "Can I join you?" Potter asked.

Draco forced himself to take another drag of his cigarette before answering, it wouldn't do to sound too eager. "I suppose," he finally said.

"Can I bum a cigarette off you?" Potter asked next.

His eyebrows rose, "You smoke?"

The other man smiled, the soft, secret one that exposed his dimples. "Occasionally. When the company is right."

Draco handed him a cigarette but he couldn't even fully appreciate the comment when the company is right because Potter leaned in close to light his off of the tip of Draco's. He hardly dared to move, he tried not to inhale deeply enough to be noticed, but he could smell the other man. He could smell his cologne; earthy and woody, he could smell Potter's shampoo; faintly like apples, and the hint of something underneath that he couldn't quite place but made his mouth water just the same.

After a moment, Potter drew back and Draco watched as he inhaled the smoke and held it in his lungs for a moment. He had so many questions, so many things he was dying to know, instead he said, "You're always quiet."

"Sorry?" Potter asked, turning his head to look at Draco as he rested his back against the wall.

"Your friends-"

"They're your friends, too," Potter interrupted.

And oh, he was trying to be kind, trying to tell Draco that they counted him as one of them, his heart fluttered uselessly. "Fine, our friends," he conceded, "They're always so loud. And you listen to them, you know everything about them. You've kept every detail stored away in that funny little brain of yours."

"I wouldn't say every detail," Potter protested before putting his cigarette between his lips once more. It shouldn't be attractive, Draco thought to himself.

"But you're always quiet," Draco pushed. "You listen to everyone, know things about everyone, but you never talk about yourself."

Potter looked away, staring up at a lamp post for a long moment. He took another drag of his cigarette and Draco thought for a moment that he wasn't going to answer. "Who really wants to listen to me?" he murmured on an exhale.

I do! Draco wanted to scream. Instead he huffed, "Everyone does."

Potter's lips tipped up in what was supposed to be an approximation of a grin but there was no joy in it, "No they don't. They'd want to listen if I wanted to tell them about a date I'd gone on, or if I had a family to talk about, or if I'd just gotten a new crup, or if I'd done something good or brave, if I'd updated my kitchen, or taken up painting." He brought his cigarette to his mouth once more and didn't look back at Draco.

Draco waited. He was good at this, good at waiting for people to talk. Silence didn't bother him. It made him a very good interrogator.

After a moment, Potter continued, "No one wants to hear about how I can't always sleep at night. No one wants to hear about the memories, and the flashbacks, and the nightmares. No one wants to listen to me talk about all of the ways that everything that happened in the war feels meaningless when we're just dealing with the same bullshit day in and day out at the ministry. No one wants to hear me talk about how when I look at Teddy all I can think about is how he looks just like Tonks and has a mischievous streak as wide as Remus'. Everyone's moved on," he said. "Everyone has gotten on with their lives and no one wants to hear about how I am just..." he trailed off searching for a word, "trapped. In my grief, in all of the ways that I failed. No one wants to know that it feels like I'll never be able to atone for all of the hurt, for all of the death and suffering-" he broke off, his voice choked, and Draco watched as a tear tracked silently down his cheek.

"I do," Draco whispered because he had to. Because Harry had been brave and vulnerable, and Draco owed him this much. "I do," he repeated.

Harry looked over at him, and his forest green eyes laid Draco bare. "Why?"

He lifted one shoulder, "because," he paused and swallowed, "because you're not alone in feeling so many of those things," he started. "Because you deserve to feel heard, to feel seen, to feel known. Because what you have to say matters."

"To who?"

And Draco recognized this question for what it was. He understood that Harry was not really asking who but why. He was asking if what he had to say mattered because he was "the Savior" or "the Chosen One" or did what he had to say matter because he was Harry, just Harry.

"To me," Draco said finally, knowing it was tipping his hand. "What you have to say matters to me. I want to know you, Potter. Harry."

Harry was quiet for a long moment, looking at Draco, searching him and Draco very much hoped he would find whatever he was looking for.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Harry said, "I want to know you, too, Draco."

Draco couldn't have stopped the grin that spread across his face if he'd tried, and he did try, so he settled for looking down at the ground to hide it.

"I like your smile," Harry said softly.

"Oh?" Draco replied.

Harry nodded, "I like a lot of things about you," he said, soft like a confession.

"I like a lot of things about you, too," Draco admitted.

"Would you maybe want to go and get some coffee?" Harry asked. "Or go somewhere quieter than here so we could talk?"

"I would like that very much," Draco replied. "There's a little muggle coffee shop a few blocks from my flat that stays open until 3:00am?" he offered.

Harry dropped the stub of his cigarette on the pavement and ground it out with his boot, "Lead the way," he said, gesturing to the sidewalk.

Draco nodded once, his stomach tumbling and bubbling like a cauldron set too hot, and he set off toward his flat.

He'd only taken a few steps when he felt Harry's fingers slide through his.

"Alright?" Harry asked softly.

Draco squeezed his fingers, "Better than," he replied, giving Harry a little smile. Grinning because he supposed, with Harry's hand in his, he had one less irrational thing to feel jealous of.

Day 3: Agility | Day 5:Possessiveness

[random-of-random]

The Secret - Chapter 4

A New Job

A/N: Hello lovelies! Thank you for continuing to read and the positive feedback - especially from @jessdodd22 !

Word Court: 2.4K

Warnings: A kiss? Should there be a warning for that?

“I left your 10AM medications on the dining room table.” Y/N called as she slipped one of her heels on.

“What?” Percival asked as he walked from his desk out to the living room. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going into the office today.” She quickly explained.

“Good.” Percival turned around momentarily to grab an armful of files then walked fully into the living room, closing his office door behind him. “Let me just get dressed and-“

“You’re staying here.” Y/N concluded as she slipped on a light jacket.

“Y/N, I am clearly fine.”

“Is that right?” She asked, her head cocking to one side. “If you want to pretend you didn’t fall when you tried to get out of bed this morning, we can.”

Percival clenched his jaw for a second. “It was just early, is all, and I tripped on some clothes. I am fine to go into the office.”

“The doctors said three days. You just have today and tomorrow, then you can jump back into the fray.” Y/N picked up her purse and her wand.

“What if I just come in anyway? I don’t need your permission.”

“I could always tell Madam President that you are not following doctors orders and she will make you come back here.” Y/N’s eyebrows were set as she dared him to make a move. She wasn’t bluffing.

“Fine.” She could hear the annoyance permeating through his voice. “At least being me some new files? And take these in?”

“No problem.” Y/N grabbed the files from his hands and was gone with a pop. Suddenly his apartment was quieter than he remembered it. Even the sounds from outside weren’t as loud as he recalled. Sitting down on the couch, he grabbed the paper Y/N had been reading. There were more protests in the no-maj world about the liquor. The country had made it illegal - an idiotic move. Though Percival only drank occasionally, he predicted this wouldn’t end well. Pulling out his pocket watch he was frustrated to note that only a single minute had gone by since Y/N left. He missed her.

———————————-

The office was as busy as usual, the threat level was still at High Alert as she made a beeline for the elevator. Today she was expected to choose where she wanted to go in her career. When she started she was certain she would stay an Auror, but - now she had something else in mind. She just hoped Percival wouldn’t be too upset.

“You really care about him, don’t you?” Her high pitched voice sounded like a song and Y/N turned in surprise to find an attractive blonde woman looking at her, a twinkle in her eye.

“Pardon me?”

“Mr. Graves - you care about him.” The woman continued. Immediately Y/N was nervous as she studied the woman in front of her. “I’m sorry, doll, I don’t mean to worry you. I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“You’re a Legilimens.” Y/N figured it out and the woman gave her a quick nod and accompanied it with a giggle.

“I’ve never met anyone who could do that.”

“Now you have.” She held out her hand. “I’m Queenie Goldstein.”

Y/N shook her hand. “Y/N Y/L/N. Did you say Goldstein?”

“Sure did!”

“There is someone who works in magical law enforcement with the same last name.”

Queenie smiled. “That’s my sister, Tina. I was just going up to see her.” That was her name, Y/N had completely forgotten it. “You have a very different opinion of Mr. Graves than Teenie.”

“Do I?” Y/N asked as the elevator came to a stop and they both got out.

“Oh, very much. Teenie thinks he can be a little tough.”

“He can, but he’s also the best.”

“You’ve been taking care of him?” Y/N caught the inflection in Queenie’s voice.

“Yes. He’s improving fast. He would have come into work himself if it wasn’t for me threatening to tell President Picquery.” Queenie gave a laugh.

“You know, once you get the job as a hit witch, I say go for it. You really seem to like him.” Y/N nervously looked around to see if anyone was listening. “Don’t worry, sweetie, no one heard me.”

“I’m not even sure if I want to be a hit witch, for one.”

“Yes you are.” Queenie answered confidently.

Y/N let out a small laugh as she saw Arnold Heart come out of the office he shared with Percival. “It was very nice meeting you, Queenie.”

“You too, Y/N. If you ever want to grab a drink some time, talk about anything…”

“I would like that.” Y/N waved by before heading over to Arnold.

“Y/L/N!” Arnold’s jovial nature was contagious and Y/N couldn’t help but smile. “How are you? Has he driven you absolutely nuts yet? He has to be begging to leave his apartment.”

“I had to threaten him with Picquery to stay home.” Y/N confirmed. “He sends his regards though.” She placed the stack of papers in his arms.

“He finished all of these?” Arnold’s eyes were wide in shock. “Well, at least there is that. Come on in.” He opened the door to his office and held it for her. “I was meaning to say thank you for all the cleaning you the other night.”

“Oh, you’re welcome.” Y/N responded quickly. So much had happened that she had almost forgotten about it.

“I heard you have a meeting with President Piquery today.”

“I do.”

“You want to be a hit-witch?” Arnold asked and Y/N’s eyes went round in surprise. “Madam President told me.”

“I… Yeah, I think I do.”

“Graves isn’t going to be too happy.”

“I know he wanted me to be an Auror-“

“No, It’s not that.” Arnold dismissed. “Well, maybe a small portion, but if the woman I loved was going to take on one of the most dangerous jobs in the world, it would certainly scare me.”

“Love?” Y/N started laughing. Laughing hard enough that her stomach ached. “I think you’re losing it.”

“I know I’m right.” Arnold didn’t even look at her as he finished putting together a new stack of files for her to take to Percival.

Y/N stood. “You’re a smart man, Arnold, but you’re wrong about Percival. Leave those files on his desk. I’ll be back after my meeting.”

“They’ll be waiting for you.” Arnold called as Y/N headed back into the hallway. He still couldn’t help but smile knowing when Graves got the gumption to do something about it, she was going to be in for a shock.

————————-

Seraphina Picquery had been be elected President in 1920. Being born in Savanna, Georgia she was one of the rare few that all houses turned for her at Ilvermorny. She chose Horned Serpent. There was a knock on her office door and she finished a signature before she called for the person to come in.

President Picquery liked to personally oversee the new recruits for Aurors as well as Hit-Witches and Wizards. Y/N Y/L/N looked nervous when she walked into her office.

“Nice to see you Madam President.” She said before bowing politely.

“Good to see you too, Miss Y/L/N. Please, have a seat.” She indicated the chairs in front of her. “Can I get you a drink?”

“No, thank you, Madam President.” Y/N answered as she sat down.

“So, you want to be a hit-witch. Why?”

“Well, I think it’s where I could do the most good.” Y/N explained, collecting her thoughts. “I am fast, I am good with spells and counter spells. I think my time is best served catching criminals.”

“With Percival Graves being your mentor, I assumed you would want to be an Auror.” Picquery began looking through the stack of notes Percival had written about her in the last year.

“Being an Auror would also be an honor, ma’am.”

“Percival says you’re faster than any recruit he has ever trained when it comes to offensive and defensive spells. Actually, he speaks very highly of your talent.” Y/N couldn’t help but smile. He had told her a few times he thought she was talented, but not in so many words.

“That’s nice to hear, ma’am.”

Picquery closed the file in front of her. “Do you know the extra training needed to become a hit-witch?”

Y/N thought for a quick moment. “Ma’am, I believe it’s several more specialized defense courses.”

“Yes, three to be precise.”

“Understood.”

“Well, than we don’t really have a lot to talk about. Miss Y/L/N, I would like to offer you a position at MACUSA as a hit-witch.” Y/N stood up quickly to shake her hand.

“Thank you, Madam President, I won’t let you down.” President Picquery stood.

“Your first courses and training will start next week.”

“Thank you.” Y/N left the room and waited until the door closed behind her to jump for joy. She knew she had picked right. Checking her watch, she had just enough time to grab the files from Percival’s desk and back it back to his apartment before lunch.

—————————-

The seconds were moving as if they were hours. Not minutes, hours. Percival had gotten a shower, reorganized his suits, he had even begun to slightly tidy up his office until a wave of dizziness hit him. He had sat down on the couch, holding his forehead, willing the feeling to go away. Okay, so he wasn’t 100%, just like she said he wasn’t. Still, how much harm could there be in sitting behind his own desk at MACUSA.

Slowly, the feeling lifted and Percival opened his eyes. On the table in front of him was the book Y/N had been reading: “The Beautiful and the Damned” by F. Scott Fitzgerald. A no-maj book. He remembered Y/N said it had been released earlier in the year.

Opening to a page Y/N had marked, he began reading: “Things are sweeter when they’re lost. I know because I once wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly, Dot, and when I got it it turned to dust in my hand.” Percival read the passage over again before setting the book down. The “pop” from near the front of his apartment made him jump.

“Percival..” Her voice called out and it was like a song. He wanted to tell her, tell her that he loved the way she said his name. That he loved the way she fit into his life, as if she was supposed to be there all along.

Standing slowly he was walking toward the dining room when she came in. There was a pink tint to her cheeks.

“How are you feeling?” She asked.

“I’m alright. Glad you’re back.”

“Yeah, I’m glad to be back.” They were quiet for a few seconds. “Let me put these files in your office.” She continued to talk as she walked. “Arnold seemed pretty happy all of this paperwork was getting done.”

“He should be. They’re from cases over the years. Little things that needed to be filed. It’s cleaning out a massive backlog.” Percival explained while Y/N took off her coat.

“I have some really good news, but first let me make you a sandwich.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I insist.” Y/N pulled out a chair at the dining room table and motioned for him to sit. “You look pale, are you feeling okay.”

“Just a bit of dizziness. It passed.” Y/N looked at him worriedly, but turned back away to grab the bread.

“So, tell me this good news.” Percival requested.

“I had a meeting with President Picquery today.” Y/N started as she magically sliced the bread and assembled the sandwiches. “To talk about where I’m going to go in my career.” She grabbed the plate with the finished sandwich and a hot tea and set it on the table.

“I assume you’ll be joining the Auror group.” Percival said quickly before taking a bite.

“Actually, I won’t.” Y/N answered and Percival put down his sandwich, his dark brown eyes studying her.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m going to become a hit-witch.”

The silence hung heavy. “No, you’re not.”

Y/N let out a disbelieving laugh. “What?”

“You’re not going to be a hit-witch.”

Y/N leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “You think not? Why?”

“Y/N, being a hit-witch is incredibly dangerous.”

“I am well aware of that.”

“It’s not safe.”

With a huff Y/N began to stand and Percival mimicked her movements. “I know it’s not safe, but this isn’t up to you.”

“I’m the one who has to turn in your evaluations.”

“Too bad, you already did.”

“What?” Percival asked confused.

“Picquery already had them. So, whether Arnold gave them to her or she got them herself, she already used them to make her decision.”

“I don’t want you doing this.” His voice was soft and defeated, but Y/N was purely angry.

“It’s not about what you what. I want to do this. Do you think I’d be much safer as an Auror? Look what happened to you.” They were standing less than three feet apart but Y/N felt like she was going to start pacing.

“I just think it would be better if-“

“Percival, can’t you just be happy for me? This is a major deal.”

“I can’t be happy when I know you’re going to be in danger!”

“Why?” Y/N finally asked, their voices were both raised and she realized he needed to calm down, if only because of his injuries. “Why is this such a big deal to you?”

“Because I care about you!” The words stayed in the air.

“You do?” Y/N asked. “Because I’m a good student and a friend and-“

“Because you’re wonderful.” Percival took a tentative step toward her, which she matched. “Because you’re smart and you’re kind. You’re beautiful. Because I like you, Y/N.”

They were close now and his hand reached out to caress her cheek. Y/N could feel him moving forward so she closed the gap their lips connecting feverishly. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t breathe, and the few seconds the kiss lasted were over too quickly. The only sound in the apartment was their breathing as Y/N fully realized what just happened. Percival was looking down at her, a calm smile on his face.

“I should go.” Y/N pulled away.

“No, please don’t.” Percival tried to follow her as she grabbed her purse.

“I’ll be back tonight. Your medication is on the dresser in your spare room.

“Y/N, wait…”

“I can’t.” She was gone in a pop. Percival’s apartment was once again silent. The food still on the dining room table. The feel of her lips on his had made his heart race and he knew in that moment exactly what he needed to do.

[draco-spencers-paramour]

congrats for 300 followers! can I request a 🖤 with draco they have a sort of arrangement where everyday after work he goes to her house eats her out and have sex and then he leaves. they never talk but are catching feelings so one day when he comes as usual. Instead of him going down on her she gives him head and asks him to stay the night when they talk and finally confess?

This description is dirty af.....i love that😉

What you don’t know can’t hurt you

You never expected that after the war the person who helped you forget about the painful memories was the one and only Draco Malfoy.

You had spoken a few times, nothing serious. It was evident that you were both attractive people and there was a mutual awareness of that. Nothing really happened until after the war when school ended. Both of you were left broken and sad, ending up at the 3 broomsticks and then fucking back at yours an hour and a half later after at least 4 drinks about 6 weeks since you’d left hogwarts.

Draco had a job as an auror and you were a healer. Your arrangement was simple. He enjoyed going down on you much to your delight, and sex. But he never gave you the opportunity to do oral on him. Being the gracious person that you are, you wanted to return the favour but no. Because then it was over and he’d leave.

This had been going on for 6 months straight. You and him both trying to find some kind of release and comfort. The only issue was that you both became absolutely head over heels for each other but you had a fear of messing things up and ruining your arrangement which stopped your confessions of love. He longed for you, silently pining in desperation for one of you to just say something. Whereas you thought he just needed someone to use to fulfill his sex life, like his own personal fucktoy. Not that you minded but it did make you feel like shit after he left.

However, would you even call Draco your friend? Or was he just a lover..a regular hookup? you weren’t sure but you wanted more than oral and sex. It was mind-blowing but there was not much interaction though just whining of names, moaning and curse words. Even when you’d see each other in the street or at gatherings, you’d exchange the soft hello and not say a word to each other for the rest of the night but would probably leave together to go and fuck at yours.

Tonight was the same weekday routine. You finished your shift at St. Mungos before coming into your apartment in Godric’s Hollow. You got undressed had a shower and put a robe on before sitting on your couch with a mug of tea practically waiting for the boy you loved to knock on the door. And he did.

You swung the door open to see Draco looking rather upset. ‘You alright?’ you asked. He nodded before entering the room and you swiftly shut the door. He placed his work bag down before turning around and immediately placing his lips on yours. You became dizzy and light headed from the emotion he was pouring into the kiss. He must’ve had a really bad day you thought. He picked you up and pinned you against the door, lips never leaving yours. You wrapped your legs around his waist as you submitted full control to him, the bottom of your robe hiking up around your legs almost exposing you bare as his hand travelled along your thigh.

Draco carried you to the bedroom like it was second nature and laid you down on the bed. He began to kiss down your neck as per usual trailing down to your panties. You really wanted to give him full pleasure tonight so you stopped him at your navel by tapping him on the shoulder. ‘Could we switch tonight? maybe i go down on you instead?’ you bit your lip nervous at his reponse. He gave a small smile ‘If you want.’

You smirked and flipped you both over so that he was against the bed lying down. You slowly and teasingly removed your robe. Draco’s icy eyes were over taken by his pupils and his lips parted at the sight of your beautiful naked body. You removed his shirt before sinking to your knees, on the carpet, below the bed and began unbuckling his belt. You took of his trousers and boxers in one swift movement so that he too was now naked. Draco’s dick was prominently standing up against his stomach when you then slowly wrapped your hand around his length and licked up from the base to his tip.

He threw his head back and moaned ‘Oh god y/n, good girl’ this encouraged you to slip your lips around him and slide his cock in and out of your mouth. Draco kept moaning, grunting and swearing as you explored different pressures and boundaries. ‘Fucking hell..i’m gonna-.’ he said as you took him all in and sucked lightly. He gave a long low moan as he came in your mouth and you swallowed every bit of it.

you came up to kiss him which he gladly accepted and flipped the dynamic again with him on top. he pressed your hips into the mattress as he slotted his body in between your legs whilst his mouth was still on yours. He looked at you with an expression you’d never quite seen before. It was soft, curious and lustful almost bordeline loving. He then looked at you as to say ready?

you nodded and smiled before feeling the tip of his cock rub against your clit making you moan softly. Immediately after, you felt what you had been waiting for. Draco. His dick entered you slowly and he set a slow pace. He put his head in the crook of your neck and began kissing and panting. The pressure of the pleasure was too much for you both. The slow pace was absolutely fucking heaven. You were both on cloud 9, involuntarily clenching around him with every thrust. This was not sex, he was making love to you.

‘Oh Draco. Yes...yes..more.’ you whined. He moved his head to suck on your tits as he was fucking into you. That was what pushed you over the edge and you screamed out a string of expletives along with draco’s name as you orgasmed and clenched around his cock. Seconds later he met with his own release cumming inside you, pulling you into a kiss as he came.

Draco slumped on top of you waiting to catch his breath. You knew it would be about another 30 seconds before he got up dressed himself and left. Just as you predicted he stood up, out of the bed and went to the carpet where his clothes were and began to put his trousers back on. No you thought you couldn’t go on like this any longer.

Before your brain could even stop you the word fell out. ‘Stay’ you said, terrified. He blinked and look at the ground and then back up at you and it was simply ‘Okay, sure.’ He removed his trousers being naked once more and climbed back into your bed with you. Draco’s arms instantly came around your waist and you put your leg across his stomach, rested your head on his chest and put your arm across too. You were cuddling Draco Malfoy post-sex.....this does not happen ever **The beautiful boy laid there looking up the at ceiling as you just looked at him

Your eyes finally met ‘You know, we don’t actually speak very much, if at all. Everytime we see each other we say hi but then we don’t talk.’ Draco pursed his lips ‘I don’t know how to speak to people. Especially if i’m fucking them.’ you looked at him confused ‘But the only person you’ve been fucking for the last 6 months is me and when we were in school it was pansy in 5th year and you spoke to her ’ he nodded ‘I know but she was terrible and I didn’t and don’t even like her. It’s just different with you.’

you removed yourself from him and sat up and furrowed your brows ‘Why? Because I’m worse?’ he sat up also and put his hand on the small of your back ‘Merlin, no you’re the best I’ve ever had. But it’s not because of any of that.’ you looked at him even more puzzled ‘Then why?’ you questioned again. He sighed before looking down ‘I love you.’ he admitted. Your eyes widened ‘What?’

Draco frowned ‘Im sorry. I do. I love you. I see you at gatherings laughing so carelessly with your friends and I wish it was me making you laugh. I time exactly when I’ll get to yours so that i know you’ve had enough time to get ready and settled before i come over. I know that you have green tea always and you enjoy watching the rain and having baths. You hate anything orange flavoured and you like muggle TV for who knows why. I know a lot more than you think I do because I want be the person who you feel like home with because I love you and i’ve just ruined everything.’ he put his head in his hands.

You carefully took his hands away taking in his broken hearted expression ‘I love you too Draco. So much’ you held your hands in his. He gazed at you in shock before tackling to you to the bed and kissing you. ‘So how about we get to know each other a little better?’ you suggested ‘Like a date night?’ he beamed. You laughed ‘Yes but right now I had more of a ‘round two’ situation in mind considering our current state.’ you looked between you two to see that you were still both naked.

He smirked ‘Read my mind Y/l/n.’ You kissed him again ‘I love you.’ ‘I love you more.’ he said

well....thank you anon. I enjoyed writing this far too much 😁

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

49. 5 times harry was a pain in the a** until he wasn't

Prompt used- holding onto others shoulder for support |

Harry and Draco still hated each other, only this time they gave titles or did they really.. ? | ENEMIES to FRIENDS to LOVERS TROPE | SEXUAL TENSION |

The first time draco gave harry the title of being a pain in the ass was when they had lost the quidditch match out of dispute Between the match. And it happened so because they both caught the snitch and wasn't ready to let go. They remained there fighting for an hour until professor McGonagall had to practically drag them by their ears into her office

" explain " professor McGonagall sighed as she pushed her glasses over the bridge of her nose

And they began babbling like idiot, swearing at each other and going on and on about who caught it first.

" o-okay- mr. Potter- mr. Mal- okay shut up you two. I didn't bring you both here to listen to you babbling like a bumbling band of baboons " professor McGonagall sighed. It was hard to believe Harry had held back his laugh

" you're both 18 years old, mature enough to put away your rivalry, but instead you both fight like mind numbing idiots about who caught it first. I've never met any of the two people who so desirably cannot tolerate each other for even a single minute. What is the matter with you two? I thought you had signed up solidarity? Mr. Malfoy is one thing but harry you, I didn't expect this from you " draco looked thoroughly offended as professor McGonagall sighed.

" i promise you this is the last time I see the two of you creating dispute and therefore to solve this, as captains of the teams, you will be in the field, looking for the snitch for as Long as it takes for you two to apologise to each other and settle this and learn how to play together "

" but prof-"

" not a word, mr. Potter. I said what I said. Now take your brooms and settle this or I will have you both banished from the team " she sternly said.

Draco and harry rolled their eyes at each other, mimicking their lip syncs and stomping towards the field.

They remained for almost one hour, still yelling at each other and pushing away, arousing another dispute until darkness invaded and it was becoming harder to see, harry suggested the Wildest idea

" Oi malfoy !" Harry yelled catching draco's attention

" what ?" Draco snapped

" stop being fucking dramatic, listen to me -"

" I won't-"

" shut up. It's getting late and I need an out just as much as you "

" I'm listening " draco raised an eyebrow

" one of us should fake an injury, that way we won't have to stay here the entire time and we can just pretend around professor McGonagall . What do you say ?" He suggested, stumbling Little in the air

Draco thought for a moment, before he sighed " for someone so dumb, that's a clever idea "

" who's faking the injury?"

Harry smiled viciously

__________________________

" your a fucking pain in the ass " draco sneered as he hopped on one leg, his arms around Harry's shoulder for fake support

" that's what you get for calling me dumb sweetheart " harry smugly smiled

" never call me sweetheart or I'll chop you off in pieces " draco snapped lightly

" okay, sweetheart " harry smirked as they reached the hospital wing and before draco Could've said anything else, harry had started talking to madam pomfrey and then basically ran away.

" what an ass " draco mumbled to himself, laying on the bed thinking about harry.

__________________________

The second time draco honorably gave him the title was when they were working on a project on muggle sports for muggle studies.

" if you know it so well, why don't you just do it " draco Snapped

" because I don't want to. not like this anyway. I've only got the material, you can write it " harry shrugged leaning back against the common room chair comfortably

" the information you basically stole from the library. That's not even called researching " draco threw a fit

" okay Smarty pants, calm down. How else do you even suggest us to do this? Want me to watch a muggle tv show or something or what? This is the best I can do " harry frowned

Draco rolled his eyes, groaning to himself " I want you to share your thoughts on this potter, not just copy down Ron's work which by the way is abysmal "

" hey, we worked together on that-"

" save it. I'll do it on my own, while you can sit there and just- b- just bloody enjoy your whatever it is that you're drinking " draco irritatably replied as he stood up

" fine by me " harry shrugged.

Draco groaned, throwing a pencil at harry " you're a fucking pain in the ass "

" you too sweetheart " harry chuckled as he watched draco walk away.

Harry although did ended up writing up his Portion and better than draco.

" what an ass " draco mumbled to himself in class with his chin over his palm, rolling his eyes.

" I know sweetheart " harry whispered as he settled down next to draco.

Draco narrowed his eyes, throwing a fit before mumbling something to himself and looking away.

" such a darling you are " harry chuckled lightly

_____________________________

The third time draco called harry by the so title was when harry had pulled up a prank. However It wasn't meant for draco.

" what the fuck is your problem !" Draco exclaimed, drenched in slime

" fuck- holy shit " harry pressed his lips to control his uncontrollable urge to laugh " it wasn't- it was for Seamus. We just had a bet and you- you just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time "

Draco rolled his eyes trying to wipe off the slime from his black suit " you ruined my fucking suit "

" well- that- I mean who wears a suit at school really. That's your fault " harry poked his bottom lip out, shrugging in innocence until he recieved the death glare from draco "nope definitely my fault "

" you're such a pain in the ass "

" you call me that often " harry grinned as though it was a compliment

" you deserve it " draco sighed, tired from all the snapping, still trying to get that thing off him.

" I'll make it up to you, alright. I mean of course you're gonna say I am ass but your suit looks expensive, what say, I treat you at hogsmeade, take you to shrieking shack and show you the wonders behind ?" Harry suggested amusingly

Draco contemplated for a moment " you better get me a nice treat and if you dare so leave me alone there-"

" you'll chop me off into pieces. I know " harry smiled lightly.

Draco however much furious was not so anymore, he discovered the whole thing to be actually quite funny but dared so not to give harry the satisfaction of laughing.

" you've got something on your shirt " draco pointed as he Walked towards harry.

" what ?" Harry looked bemused at his shirt until he felt arms wrapped around him

" oops, sorry, now you got something on your shirt " draco smirked as he broke the Taunting hug and Walked away, smiling to himself.

Harry was almost furious at draco, Only until he saw draco casting the most impressive cleaning spell over him walking. Harry was thoroughly impressed, and somewhat attracted, not that he admitted it to himself.

" what a sweetheart " harry Chuckled.

_______________________________

The fourth time harry recieved the title from draco was when they were working on an auror mission together and harry had accidentally petrified draco along with the criminal.

The criminal was taken by the team to azkaban while harry took draco back to the hotel, supporting him over his shoulder.

Draco had broken out of the spell only when they reached the hotel room and his first instincts were to push away harry and basically grabbing a pillow and throwing at his face.

" what In the fucking sorcery was that for ?" Harry hissed, throwing the pillow on the bed

" for casting me under the spell, you fucking moron " draco hissed

" I'm never working with you again, I swear" draco snapped

" oh stop being dramatic, you were just a collateral damage, I had to throw the spell, you just accidentally got hit because you were too close. These things happen draco"

"and what if you had thrown a curse or what if it would've backfired. Would you had taken the responsibilities for it and took care of me while the criminal would've ran away" draco angrily yelled

" draco- just calm down- it's all fine-"

" no it's not Harry. You're fucking reckless and careless and you make awful lot of mistakes unknowingly and you just assume that a sorry can fix it but somethings are not fixed by sorry and guess what you haven't even Apologized" draco Snapped as he started packing up his fastly and almost left the room until he turned around one last time at harry

" you're a fucking pain in the ass, potter" and he left to wait by the car for harry.

Guilty, harry packed away his things and picked up the watch Draco had left and sat down in the car next to draco, who hadn't calmed down even a little bit and simply ignored harry.

It wasn't until the night when harry was helping draco into his apartment that he finally spoke

" for the record draco, I would've took care of you if something had backfire, risking the criminal away because your life is more important. I'm not that idiot but I deserved it"

Draco nodded understandably " I know "

" and I'm also very sorry " harry pressed his lips in a thin line, pocketing his hands and walking away backwards to get back to the car

" oh by the way- you didn't say I'm an ass " harry wittily said

Draco shook his head, " what an ass "

" there's the sweetheart of a draco malfoy I know" harry chuckled and ran away downstairs.

" fucking dork " draco mumbled to himself smiling as he watched harry driving away from his window.

_______________________________

The fifth time draco called harry a pain in the ass at a bar when they were all hanging out with their friends, joining in a celebration and draco was dancing away with a random Stranger and he much enjoyed it until of course harry had to interrupt

" excuse me but can you please put away your dick from my boyfriend " harry possessively said.

The stranger immediately walked away in a rush before draco Could've even said a word

" what the fuck did you do ? I was having fun- and who the fuck made you my boyfriend " draco snapped, standing still watching harry standing silent

" I can't believe this. You're a fucking pain the ass harry " draco rolled his eyes, walking away until without even so of an anticipation he was whirled around and met with a pair of lips on his own, leaving him gasping.

" harry-"

" shush " Harry mumbled against his lips and draco finally gave in, pushing his hands into Harry's hair, tugging at the roots erupting a low moan from harry, inappropriately sloppily kissing harry, pulling their bodies closer if possible and definitely ruining their so called friendship.

_____________________________

" how did it happen ?" Ron asked as he slurped his lemonade draco made him

" well you know- he's just a pain in the ass " draco shyly said

" I thought I was last night, wasn't I " harry whispered smirking as he put his arms Around draco's waist from the side and pulling him closer, kissing his neck.

" fuck you" draco Blushed as he bit on his straw

" sweetheart, we only did it last night " harry Chuckled as he kissed behind Draco's ear

Draco's eyes widened, his cheeks attaining a much deeper tone of red

" get a room for fucks sake " Ron groaned as he walked away, mimicking puking.

" we had until you came in " harry yelled back

" harry " Draco whined as he slapped Harry's chest Playfully, shyly laughing.

Harry laughed away until he got kissed by draco, sloppily, leaving him gasping in shock.

" what ? You thought you're the only one with a dirty Mouth " draco raised an eyebrow suggestively

" fuck me " Harry melted away as he kissed draco again.

Well, this was fun...

Requests open | Dialogue Prompt requests open as well.

Day 48- because, its you and me | Day 50- putting a hand over others mouth shut them up

[jpriest85-blog]

I've been replaying the @gonzague-if lately and thinking if my MC Médée had stayed a Princess instead of poisoning her brother as children, she would have accumulated a much higher body count as a black widow (she does still wind up poisoning her brother and father after killing her first husband).

She'd probably still wind up recruiting Peyrolles via blackmail like she does in game shortly after the death of her first husband 🤔 although over the years Peyrolles proves to be more loyal and devoted to Médée than any of her husbands. She does still meet and befriend both Charters and Nevers and even been intimate with them both at various times. Charters still has a friends with benefits dynamic with Médée, but Nevers is too honorable a man to seduce a married woman.

Médée and Nevers do wind up becoming lovers after the death of her 2nd husband. Unfortunately, the relationship doesn't last despite the fact Médée genuinely loves Nevers they both have different beliefs when it comes to marriage. Nevers still holds the idealized romantic notion that marriage should be for love, while Médée learned from painful first-hand experiences that marriage is rarely based on affection but more of a business arrangement. Eventually Médée wound up accepting another man's proposal, but Nevers would always be the one that got away. After the sudden death of her 3rd husband (which Médée didn't cause this time) she found herself indebt again after discovering her husband hid the fact he lost most of their fortune in some secret business schemes that failed. So, while she's still in mourning and trying to figure out what to do, she meets Aurore and winds up catching the interests of the Marquis de Caylus.

Médée is a very attractive woman from a noble family, well connected, and not only is she still of child bearing age to potentially give him a son, the Marquis could also use her keen business sense to increase his wealth. Both Aurore and Nevers try desperately to discourage Médée from accepting the Marquis marriage proposal fearing for her safety, yet not realizing that Médée is already plotting the Marquis demise first...until she learns Nevers has another reason to not want Médée to become de Caylus new bride. Like the fact he and Aurore are secretly married and have a child together.

Apparently, it wasn't awkward enough that Médée's ex lover is now her son in law but Surprise! She's a step-grandmother now, and de Caylus' wealth goes to Aurore and her daughter now! Looks like Médée is not going to be the only widow anymore.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Opinion on Harry Potter/Bella Swan? 👀

Nope, though, probably not for the reasons you necessarily think.

Why Bella's Not Chasing After Harry

Let's say we're in a strange AU where Harry's still a wizard but, for some reason, is in Forks and is of a comparable age (i.e. he's not an auror chasing down rogue vampires for example). We also have to be in a world where there can be both wizards and Twilight vampires, which I don't think is a thing, but we're ignoring that.

Anyway, Bella meets Harry in Biology (Edward's not there to draw her interest/terror) and...

Bella's flat out not interested. At all.

First, Harry's not really ridiculously good looking. Personally, I always pictured him on the plain side. Even if he's fairly good looking , he's not Edward level. He looks like, more or less, a normal teenage boy. Bella has plenty of that.

Second, Harry's not that bright. Even if he is smarter than I give him credit for, he still tends to slack off in school and rely on Hermione to think for him in an academic setting. One of the things that immediately impressed Bella about Edward, once they started talking, was that he could keep up with her intellectually (he actually can't and was cheating hard in Biology, but Bella didn't know that yet).

Harry, getting a C on his Biology assignments, and complaining how stupid labs are is not going to impress her much.

Bella also won't be interested in being a "Hermione". She's not going to carry his weight for him and, if pressed hard enough, will openly tell him that he's a dumbass.

For Bella, there is nothing to distinguish Harry from Mike Newton.

Even if he shows her his magic, she learns he's a wizard, then he's just Mike Newton with a wand. By Harry wielding magic, he makes it instantly less cool.

Why Harry Might Be Interested in Bella (Sort Of)

On Harry's end, there's more of a chance, at first. Bella's very attractive and very popular (at least in Twilight, less so as the series goes on). In this sense, Bella's very like Cho Chang, she has a lot of vague, nice, qualities that Harry's vaguely interested in.

She's smart, she's nice, she's pretty, that's a worthy crush for Harry right there.

Now, he'll be very upset as she shows no interest in him and incensed when she shoots him down, not even for another guy but, just because she says "Nah".

And as soon as Bella unloads any emotional baggage on him, as Cho did in book 5, Harry will run in the other direction. And Bella, as we all know, has plenty of emotional baggage.

But basically though, it would never happen, Harry Potter is on par with Mike. That is a low, low, low bar for Bella.

[vina-writes]

The Pink Paradox

Written for the @drarrymicrofic​ prompt: Metamorphosis!

Rating: T

Length: 1.6k

Summary: Draco Malfoy has pink hair.

Notes: Thank you so much @fw00shy​​ for betaing!! Also just hire me for all your graphic design needs because hot damn I am proud of myself

(i)

Draco Malfoy has pink hair.

That’s not entirely correct when one gets down to the facts. Draco Malfoy has blond hair— a light, airy blond, the color of sunlight on snow. Harry Potter knows this because he’s spent many an adolescent winter watching Malfoy walk the grounds of a frozen Hogwarts and noticing it. The fact that he’s observed Malfoy that carefully is neither here nor there, although Ron would say it’s there (there being the Janus Thickey Ward). Harry’s Malfoy-stalking tendencies occupy their own corner of his mind however, and certainly don’t apply to the here and now.

Because here and now Malfoy has pink hair, and that’s not something unique to Harry’s observations. There’s not a witch or wizard alive who wouldn’t notice that head of bubblegum bobbing between the Auror cubicles.

It’s far too early for a Monday morning (nearing noon), and while their coworkers have been diligently ridding the Wizarding World of crime, Harry and Ron are tossing Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans into each other's mouths and gossiping over Lavender Brown’s pregnancy cravings. They were, that is, until Harry caught sight of Malfoy's pink hair.

“Kneazle got your tongue?” Ron asks after Harry fails to finish his sentence for the fifth time. Ron can make fun of him if he wants— his chair is facing away from Malfoy and that rosy fringe. The fact that Harry has never passed up a chance to watch Draco in all their years of training and employment (with or without pink hair) is irrelevant. The pink is distracting, and it’s more so on Malfoy.

“Malfoy,” Harry repeats to himself quietly, just to feel the familiar shape in his mouth. It’s lacking the venom and suspicion it should have on principle.

Ron turns unpleasantly green at that. “Malfoy’s got your tongue?” he asks.

“What?” Harry finally looks away from Malfoy. “No. Ew. Of course not.” He says it far too blandly, like a child denying their love of sweets, and Ron gives him a Look. Harry tries (unsuccessfully) to change the subject. “What’s he doing with the— why did he— what’s… erm.”

Ron regards him like he’s lost his mind. He seems to think Harry is confused about Malfoy’s business in the DMLE, when he’s usually with Hermione down in Mysteries. While that is out of the ordinary, it’s not nearly as pressing of an issue as Malfoy's pink hair.

“He’s consulting,” Ron explains slowly, “for the Finley case?” Then, when Harry only stares back blankly— “Harry. Can you even read?”

“Occasionally.”

“Tacky romance novels don't count.”

“Oh. Then, no, not really.”

“It was in our missive just last week. They’ve pulled in the Unspeakables. I was hoping they’d send ‘Mione, since she and the Ferret work together, but no such luck.”

“Oh.” Harry turns back to watch Malfoy shake Robards’ hand. Robards' grip is strong, and his thick fingers nearly engulf Malfoy’s delicate wrist. Harry doesn’t like that.

“Are you worried he’s going to cause trouble?” Ron asks. His voice sounds different, and when Harry glances at him again he’s got both feet slung over the armrest of his chair. Robards will skin him alive if he sees.

“No!” Harry says too quickly. He coughs. “Just wondering about the— er, how long has he had…?”

Ron doesn’t seem inclined to help him out.

“For fuck’s sake, Ron, when did he go and do—” Harry waves his hands frantically “—that?”

“Do you mean the hair, mate?”

“Yes, the bloody hair!” Harry’s had his fair share of existential crises in his life. He’s well acquainted with the feeling, and this one is going near the top of the list.

Ron, the bastard, shrugs. Shrugs! Like a pink-haired Malfoy is not only a normal occurrence, but is even expected.

“I didn’t notice it at first, to be honest,” he says, and Harry throws him a look of such vicious resentment that the potted Dragon Snap in the corner stops smoking and curls its leaves over its head. Ron just gives him a shit-eating grin in return.

Discouraged by his apparently un-threatening aura, Harry glances away in time to see Malfoy get a hearty pat on the shoulder (he doesn’t like that, either) and turn towards— towards them.

“Er, Ron?” Harry asks. “Who was assigned to the Finley case?” He knows the answer before he gets it, but still can’t look away from the cutting figure Malfoy makes as he saunters towards them in swirling black robes.

“That would be us,” Ron says cheerfully. “Buckle up and tuck in, mate. Your hard-on is showing.”

Harry is not hard, not even a little, but his panicked struggle to tug the mercilessly short Auror robes over his lap leaves him wrinkled and guilty-looking when Malfoy reaches them.

“Gentlemen,” Malfoy says cooly, and Harry thinks his cheeks must be the color of Malfoy’s hair.

“Harry’s hot for your hair,” Ron says. Harry chokes. “He’s also not read the case file, so I’ll leave you two to it. Don’t come looking for me, I’ll be taking an extended lunch. Looking forward to working with you.”

He throws them both a saucy wink and leaves with all the smugness of a man who’s done his yearly good deed. Harry’s going to murder him before the day is done.

Silence descends over their cubicle. Malfoy eyes Ron’s chair, but wisely chooses to remain standing. Harry notices belatedly that his robes are trimmed in silver, the same shade at his eyes.

“Potter.”

“Malfoy,” Harry acknowledges with a polite nod. The stillness around them is most certainly plummeting towards awkward.

“I heard you like my—”

“Have you read the—”

They both speak at the same time. Malfoy blinks, startled. When he doesn’t finish his sentence, Harry tries again.

“Have you not been debriefed on—”

“I noticed you changed your—”

They wisely decide to shut up. There’s a used staple on the corner of Harry’s desk, and he reaches over to fiddle with it just for something to do.

“Staples,” Malfoy says out of the blue. He looks like he regrets his volume, and it occurs to Harry that he probably feels just as uncomfortable. This is the first time they’ve spoken beyond polite greetings in four years, and neither is sure what to expect. It makes Harry feel better, somehow, to know that he’s not the only one feeling utterly wrongfooted.

“Yes,” Harry says. “Staples?”

Malfoy swallows. His neck is a long expanse of smooth skin, and Harry vaguely wonders what it tastes like. “We might make use of them on the case. Staples, I mean. Have you any more?”

Harry frowns, his discomfort dissipating. “Yeah, in the supply closet. But we just use Sticking Charms— don’t you?”

“Yes,” Malfoy says quickly. “We do. But we could try staples from the supply closet.”

It’s Harry’s turn to deploy the Look. Malfoy frowns at him like he doesn't get it, but Harry’s not really in the mood for deduction.

“So,” Harry says instead, “Auror work. Are you looking forward to it?”

There’s a shift in Malfoy’s stance, and his grey eyes skim over the lines of Harry’s body. “Parts of it,” he says. His tone is a little off. Husky.

“Sore throat?” Harry asks in what he hopes is a sympathetic manner.

“Sometimes,” Malfoy says cryptically. Harry’s not having the greatest time puzzling out his strange behavior and responses— they leave him floundering for something else to say.

“Are you going to tell me what’s in that fancy file or do I have to read it?” Harry finally asks, jerking his chin towards the papers tucked under Malfoy’s arm. He sincerely hopes Malfoy will volunteer to summarize for him. It’s because Harry’s glasses are giving him a headache and not at all because he likes the sound of Malfoy’s voice.

Malfoy’s cheeks flush a little. Harry wonders if he’s coming down with something, even as he struggles not to think of the color as attractive. “Protocol dictates that you read case information yourself,” Malfoy says, “but I suppose I wouldn’t mind speeding things along so we can get started. Maybe… over coffee? Or lunch?”

Harry tries not to let his dismay show on his face. “We have to work through lunch?” he asks. It sounds pathetic even to his own ears.

“Oh my fucking Merlin, he’s asking you out!” Cho shouts over the cubicle wall. Harry and Malfoy both jump.

“No, he’s not!” Harry shouts back, cheeks flaming.

“Yes, I am,” Malfoy says. Harry drops the used staple.

“You are?”

“Am I?”

“I don’t bloody know!”

“Well,” Malfoy starts, but seems to realize he doesn’t have a leg to stand on. “Well— you like my hair.”

“And that’s enough reason to ask me out for coffee?”

Harry really has no idea why he’s arguing. This is Malfoy— pink-haired, blushing Malfoy— handing himself over on a silver-trimmed platter, and he mentally slaps himself for putting up any sort of resistance.

“I like your hair,” Malfoy admits. He seems to regret saying it, and tries to make up for his embarrassment by adopting a suave position leaning against Harry’s desk. He misses and stumbles slightly before righting himself.  

“Don’t worry, Malfoy,” Cho calls again. “He’s been wetting himself over you for years, he’s bound to say yes.”

“Well, he’s not saying it,” Malfoy mutters.

“Yes I am.”

“You— you are?”

“Am I?”

Malfoy stops and stares at him. Opens his mouth, frowns a little. There’s a wonderful feeling in Harry’s chest.

“I’m just fucking with you,” Harry says over a smile. “Let’s go.”

Malfoy orders a strawberry milkshake at lunch. Harry doesn’t get dessert, but he still feels very… pink.

Read on Ao3

[drarryruinedme7]

Last year I made a post with all my fave Drarry fics from my first year of fandom. Have my second year wrap up! Listed by Rating and then length. 

RATING: TEEN AND UP AUDIENCES

Beautiful by @xx-thedarklord-xx​​ (2017; 8.9k)

Summary: With the second task looming closer, Harry escapes to the Black Lake to open the egg, in the hopes of avoiding Myrtle. The Mersong isn't just helpful in figuring out that Mermaids are real, it attracts his very own handsome Merman.

*I didn’t know I love merpeople AUs until I read this one. It was cute and sweet and I’m really glad I read it. 

Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Crammer for Delinquents on the Run by @waspabi​​ (2017; 93.3k)

Summary: 'You're a wizard, Harry' is easier to hear from a half-giant when you're eleven, rather than from some kids on a tube platform when you're seventeen and late for work.

*What can I say. This is a masterpiece, it absolutely entered my heart to never leave it again. Best AU ever!!!

Away Childish Things by @letteredlettered​​ (2018; 153.8k)

Summary: Harry gets de-aged. Malfoy has to help him.

* This has been the turning point of my Drarry passion this year. First, I discovered Lettered (good Lord why hadn’t I before?!) and then, well. This fic brought out so many feelings in me and I’ve already re-read it something like 5 or 6 times in the span of a few months. Amazing.

RATING: MATURE

you’ve got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass (2018; 20.7k)

Summary: When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

* The angst!! It’s usually not my cuppa, but this was bittersweet and just so well written, I couldn’t stop reading. Find the rec for this one at this post.

RATING: EXPLICIT

Give Me Sweet Oblivion by @tryslora​​ (2012; 4k)

Summary: Italy seems like a long way to go to keep a fetish secret. But the club is exclusive, and the far away location, and Muggle nature, promises anonymity from Wizarding Britain. The only problem is that sometimes, great minds think alike.

*Super hot, I love finding old gems like this one. Plus, Italy. Go, folks!

Shiny Things, Slightly Damaged by @lqtraintracks​​ (2020; 5.3k)

Summary: Harry may not ever have had to see it if McGonagall hadn’t decided it was a good idea to hold a ceremony on the grounds outside before the Sorting in the Hall. And by ‘it’ he’s referring to Draco Malfoy on a motorbike.

*jsklajdksajfa This one! THIS ONE! Slayed me. I read it feverishly and then like, fainted at Draco on a motorbike.... this fic surprised me and I 100% loved it.

A Ghost of Blissful Feelings by @alpha-exodus​​ (2020; 6k)

Summary: Harry hadn't expected to spend his eighth year fucking Draco Malfoy, but it's the only thing that helps him let go.

*Dunno guys, I’m amazed by how much this one hit me. You should read the tags before diving in, but it was darkish in the right way, Harry and Draco suffers and find peace in a ‘’special’’ way, but I stand by it. Hot and intense.

Tell Me (What you Need) by @keyflight790​​ (2019; 6k)

Summary: Even though Harry was paying for his Dom, there were limits; breaking points in which someone would refuse, no matter how many Galleons were pushed in their direction.

*Okay, I may be biased because this is a gift for me, but Chris never lets down with her amazing writing and this has everything I need and more: Dom!Rentboy!Draco and a perfectly sweet Harry with a Daddy!kink. I mean.

Dangerous by Faith Wood (2014; 6.3k)

Summary: Being trapped in a dungeon with Malfoy — who's a werewolf, a former Death Eater, and a giant git — is definitely dangerous. Harry has no reason to be excited. None at all.

*Y’all know Faith Wood is like my n.1 fave Drarry author. I have no idea why I had never read this one though!!! It’s actually phenomenal, scorching hot and just dsjkafjaks love this werewolf!Draco. OMG.

Scent and Sensibility by aidaninkling (2018; 7.5k)

Summary: [...] Draco's always known he'd be married off as a trophy omega, but suddenly his mother's trying to make him king by promising him to some stupidly good-looking alpha and she just won't stop smiling at him. Does fate's cruelty know no end?!

*This blew my mind. A/B/O AU so hot I melted while reading it and I loved it so much that I re-read it three times IN A ROW. No kidding. Read it. 

The Eighth Tale by @letteredlettered​​ (2012; 12k)

Summary: Draco Malfoy tries to fix the past, but instead mucks it up some more. For Harry, it all becomes quite clear.

*Back to Lettered. I love Time Travel fics, and this just delivered perfectly. The ending was also enigmatic enough to keep me wandering, which I always appreciate in these kind of stories. 

Sex, Lies and Veritaserum by @letteredlettered​​ (2011; 17.9k)

Summary: This entire fic is one long conversation about sex.

*LOL alright, I’ve developed a new obsession this year (clearly). This was ...gosh! Hot but it also gives away a certain level of intimacy and trust between Draco and Harry to be so open about their kinks... it was perfect.

On One’s Knees by pir8fancier (2008; 33.8k)

Summary: The war is over and to the victors go the spoils.

* The fic which made me fall in love with DownAndOut!Draco. 

The Pirate and the Prince by @nerdherderette​ (2019; 49.2k)

Summary: Draco can't believe that fate and circumstance have made him a stowaway on the Master of Death's ship. He doesn't know what's worse: the dread pirate's legendary vendetta against the aristocracy, or the fact that his captor is the most infuriating yet irrefutably fascinating man Draco has ever met.

*Okay y’all. Nerd is a great person and author. She is phenomenal. And this fic shows it so well. The pirate!AU the Drarry fandom both needed and deserved. Sublime.

Unhook the Stars by jad (2016; 70.5k)

Summary: [...] Seventy-thousand words of pornographic discourse between two boys-turned-men that still haven't learned how to communicate like normal people – with words. Guest appearances by Pansy Parkinson, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini, Teddy Lupin, Gregory Goyle, the Weird Sisters, ex-wives, several Weasleys, a Boggart, and a Honey Badger.

*Again, Dom!Draco and such a beautiful sub!Harry. They stole my heart. In this fic they grow up together through the aftermath of the war and they just... they have this intense Dom/sub relationship, I can’t... explain how much I loved this. Scorpius also makes his appearance and it’s so real and cute!

Such Great Heights by aideomai (2015; 93.3k)

Summary: 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?”

*This is one of the last ones I’ve read. Find my rec for it here. Such a cool fic, with a shunned Draco who gets to be so happy in the end, it made me happy too.

Burn The Witch by @lettersbyelise​​ (2019; 95.8)

Summary: When Harry Potter is sent in to investigate Draco Malfoy’s successful potions company, posing as Draco’s bodyguard, he doesn’t know the case will launch a series of events that will change his life — and Draco’s. A story about choices, scars, Chopin piano pieces, and finding all kinds of love in the most unexpected places.

*I do not have the words to express what this fic means to me. First of all, it’s how I met Elise who’s an amazing person and who I’m glad to call friend. She’s the sweetest. And also incredibly talented. This fic will take your breath away from the first word to the last one. Smol!Scorpius is perfectly characterised and my absolute favourite bit of the fic. 

Who we are in the shadows by @quicksilvermaid​​ (2019; 99.7k)

Summary: What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life. When he comes across Draco Malfoy in the criminal underbelly of Wizarding London and in need of protection, Harry figures bringing him in to face the Ministry's justice is his ticket back to everything he's lost. But nothing is exactly as it seems. Not even Harry himself. And as he gets drawn further and further into Malfoy's world of honour and deception he finds himself questioning everything he thought he knew—about his childhood nemesis, the Ministry job he misses so much, and most of all, about himself. What happens when you’re forced to see that you were wrong?

*Another incredible person who I got to know better thanks to her breathtaking storytelling and her sweetness for sharing it with me. Quick made something amazing with this fic and I urge you to read it. It was my first creature fic ever, first time I read about werewolves and I totally fell in love with it. Sheer perfection. 

Freedom to be by @quicksilvermaid​​  (2019; 169.5k)

Summary: Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived. 12 years after the war, he's become the Boy Who Lived For Everyone Else. He has the perfect wife. The perfect house. The perfect job. The perfect friends. Only nothing feels perfect. Until one day he stumbles across a club called Release and begins a journey of self-discovery that takes him to a very different place.

*Well, could I just miss out on another one of Quick’s great works? With, again, Dom!Draco!??? No, I couldn’t! This is such a great exploration of BDSM and what it means and Harry’s path into it. 

19 Years and 5 Minutes Later by TheMightyFlynn (2015; 202.8k)

Summary: Five minutes after his happily-ever-after, Harry finds himself locked in the public loos with an angry Draco Malfoy and a need that he has denied for 19 years.

*Find my rec for this fic here. It’s really long and has Ginny bashing, but it’s totally worth it!! 

[theclockworkmonk]

Out of the Mouths of Babes — Ch 6

AO3 | FFN

Previous chapter on Tumblr

Written for Hinny Ficfest 2021

Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

Special thanks to @deadwoodpecker for beta reading this chapter

********

It was Molly’s turn to catch Arthur as he swayed on his feet and nearly fainted into her lap.

Hermione’s trembling hands were clapped firmly over her mouth, her eyes bulging to the size of saucers and darting around the room, unsure of who to start questioning, lecturing, or comforting first.

Ron was standing comfortably looking very pleased with himself, taking his turn to give Hermione his best “I told you so” look.

Fleur was silently beaming.

George’s face was turning red and his lips were pressed together so tightly they were turning white, he was trying so hard to keep his flippant comments to himself.

Percy had an intense, focused look on his face like he was trying to solve a maths problem or get a joke.

Bill and Charlie were glaring at Harry with a renewed quiet venom that was more intimidating than the unrestrained threats of a few minutes earlier.

But Harry wasn’t even close to caring, because his brain was too busy with listing to him all of the reasons why he was a terrible person and how he had ruined Ginny’s life and how he had no business being responsible for a tiny helpless human. With the deathly silence of the kitchen, he could perfectly hear his pulse pounding in his ears.

Ginny was still just staring at the blue potion with a completely blank expression. Finally, she was the one who broke the silence.

“...Huh.”

That sound was like a dam breaking, and the entire family erupted into a new flood of noise, all shouting over each other.

“Okay, okay, nobody panic!” Hermione shrieked, flapping her hands and clearly panicking, “We can handle this, I’ll help Ginny make a plan! I’ll start a baby binder!”

Molly darted across the kitchen and tackled her still-stunned daughter into a crushing hug.

“Remember Ginny dear, this is a good thing and we’re all happy for you, even though I’m so sorry I failed you as a mother,” she cried.

“By that she means you both are always accepted by this family and we’ll help any way we can,” said Arthur seriously.

“Yes, feel free to floo over if you ever start feeling sick, dear,” wept Molly, clasping onto Ginny’s hands for dear life, “and I know you starve yourself for your team, but you need to eat whatever you have a craving for as soon as you crave it, even if those trainers don’t like it. I’ll be happy to cook it for you. In fact, I’ll just start coming over every day to make sure you have everything.”

Behind her, Fleur was silently fist-pumping in victory at the new target for Molly Weasley’s doting.

“Not that anybody cares,” said Ron pointedly, staring up at the ceiling with his arms crossed, “But I’m still waiting for my apology.”

That was enough to shake Ginny out of her trance and she actually chuckled. “Ronald, it’s going to take a lot more than the immediate vindication of the wanker things you say for that to happen.”

Bill and Charlie’s faces had turned a shade of purple that reminded Harry entirely too much of Uncle Vernon.

“The rising star junior Auror can’t handle rudimentary contraception magic?” Charlie growled through clenched teeth.

Harry gulped loudly enough to be heard over the cacophony. “No! This potion batch is just a dud, we’re always safe!”

Ginny gasped and grabbed Harry by the sleeve. She pulled him close and whispered, as if there were a chance everyone wouldn’t hear. “Wait, Harry, you did remember to do the Charm...erm….that time, right?” She glanced sideways at Ron and Hermione. “That time...you know...at that thing? That thing three weeks ago?”

Harry’s insides felt like they had been frozen. Apparently the look on his face betrayed him, because Ginny looked to be going through the same revelation as him.

“I….I thought you had,” he mumbled weakly.

Ginny winced and closed her eyes. “Noooooooo,” she moaned, “Harry, we established this, the one who initiates it needs to do the Charm!”

“Exactly!” said Harry, “You were the one who grabbed me and dragged me to the bathroom!”

“Only because you hadn’t taken your hand off my thigh the entire bloody dinner!” said Ginny frantically, “What was I supposed to do, just keep eating cake?”

“Wait!” said Ron loudly, and Harry and Ginny froze like trapped rabbits.

Ron glared back and forth between the two of them, the gears in his head working. “Dinner? Cake? Three weeks?”

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Hermione seethed dangerously. “Seriously? At our engagement party!?”

Harry shrank away from her like a child caught in the sweets jar. “Er….would you believe that we got caught up in the romance of the moment? You know, because you two are so in love, it’s inspiring?”

“Exactly!” said Ginny, “Really, you should take this as a compliment.”

Ron had his hands over his ears and his eyes clenched shut. “Welp. I can never use that bathroom again. We have to move flats. Better yet, let’s just burn down the building.”

“So what is the Harpies’ maternity plan?” Percy asked studiously, as if this were simply a bureaucratic issue, “how soon do you plan on going on leave? Assuming, of course, you...you know….intend to go through with it”

Tense silence fell, as the misunderstanding that caused all this chaos was suddenly relevant again. Every face was looking toward Harry and Ginny with baited breath.

Ginny swallowed and cleared her throat.

“That,” she said forcefully, crossing her arms, “is none of your business. None of this is any of your business. So if you’ll excuse us, the only people whose opinions matter right now will discuss this alone.”

Without waiting for a retort, Ginny grabbed Harry by the hand and led him up the stairs. After they entered Ginny’s old bedroom and Harry closed the door behind him, she paced back and forth several times before turning to face him.

“Did you put a ward on the door?” she asked.

“And several more on our way up the stairs,” answered Harry. “We should have a while before an Extendable Ear sneaks in here.”

“Good. Very good. Cool. Coolcoolcoolcoolcool.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over them, both hesitant to look the other in the eye. Harry wanted to hug her and start reassuring her, but he also didn’t want this conversation to start, because he wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to hear what he suspected Ginny would say.

Even though he was completely panicking and sure he would find a way to spectacularly mess up raising a child, there was no doubt in his mind about at least trying his best at it. But he knew how dedicated Ginny was to her career, and how difficult this could be for her. He was sure what she was going to say, but he wasn’t sure he could withstand hearing it.

Ginny was chewing her lip, but finally broke the silence. “Look, Harry….this is a lot to take in. Neither of us planned on this happening so soon, obviously. I understand if you want to focus on your job—”

“What?” Harry couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re a professional athlete who has another human growing inside you, and it’s my job we need to worry about?”

Ginny shrugged. “Well, I could keep playing for the next few months. The team healers put a ward around your abdomen for bludgers. I would have to take a break eventually, but I’m on contract now, so I’m secured in my roster spot while on maternity leave, and they always give players a chance to earn their starting spot back.”

“Oh,” said Harry, surprised. “Well that’s….that’s good. I thought it would be more cutthroat.”

“Well, the Harpies’ whole brand is having the very best female players in Britain,” said Ginny proudly, “and having a reputation for the best maternity plan in the league makes them pretty attractive to all their prospects. It’s hard to build a core team if you permanently lose a player every time someone gets pregnant.

“So…” she said assertively, looking him in the eye. “I feel like...we can do this. I want to keep this baby. But ultimately I feel like it’s both of our decisions. I’ll understand no matter how you feel. So….what are you thinking?”

Harry felt like he was in a tug of war, between exploding from happiness or imploding from terrifying nerves. Dementors, dragons, Death Eaters, nothing was as scary as this, but he also didn’t have to think about his answer, even for a second.

His hand drifted into his pocket and he toyed with what was inside. This wasn’t how he imagined doing this, but she asked him what he was thinking, and this night had already flipped all their plans upside-down, what was a bit more?

Harry focused on Ginny’s brown eyes, still earnestly waiting for his answer, and he found the courage he always found there.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” he said bracingly.

He dropped down to one knee.

Ginny made a high-pitched squeak and her eyes widened in shock. Harry smiled at himself, pleased that he could still catch her completely off-guard.

“I wasn’t planning on doing this soon. I was afraid you would think I was being pushy. Was going to wait a few years. Or maybe a few months. Okay, I was probably close to cracking already. And in the meantime, it still felt good to have this on me, as a good luck charm I suppose.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small black box he had bought weeks earlier.

“Harry….” Ginny whispered, her eyes welling with tears.

“Ginny,” Harry answered. He opened the box to reveal the ring. “Will you mar—guh!”

He was cut off by a crazed redhead tackling him to the ground, grabbing his face and kissing him hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Harry’s head was spinning, but he reluctantly pushed her back.

“Gin — Gin!” he grunted between kisses. Finally, Ginny pulled back, frowning at him.

“There’s kind of a part you forgot?” Harry said pointedly, raising his eyebrows.

Ginny looked lost for a moment, then rolled her eyes. “Oh, yeah. Yes. Obviously yes, you idiot.”

She kissed him again, and he lost track of time. Eventually, his back started to get sore on the wood floor, and he pushed himself up and pulled them both to their feet.

“We can finish our own celebration later,” said Harry, smiling so wide his face was sore, “but we should probably put your family’s worries to rest. And I can’t wait to show the world your hand with this on it.” He slid the ring onto her finger, and Ginny bounced on her feet like she was eleven years old again, practicing signing the name “Ginny Potter” in a diary.

Then, her smile slipped and she groaned loudly. “Ugh, this will make my mum even more of a nightmare now. I thought she was bad in the lead-up to Bill’s wedding, she’ll be even worse since she has to be the mother to both of us.”

“Well, Bill’s wedding was nice, wasn’t it?” said Harry diplomatically.

“I mean, I guess,” Ginny shrugged, “but not nearly nice enough to be worth all the hassle. The months of my mother stressing over everything and making sure I know my part. And I was just a bridesmaid! Being the center of attention of a hundred people while wearing a cumbersome dress might be Fleur’s dream, but it sounds like the worst day of my life.”

She wrapped her arms around Harry’s waist and pulled him close. “I just care if I’m the center of your attention.”

Harry smiled even wider. “Well don’t worry, you could be wearing a burlap sack and I still won’t be able to take my eyes off you.”

“So you don’t mind backing me up when Mum breaks out the bridal magazines?” Ginny asked pleadingly. “I was never one of those girls that fantasize about an extravagant wedding; in fact, the smaller the better. We’ve never really talked about it, but I know you, so I assume you would be okay with that?”

Harry laughed loudly. “Are you kidding? Yes, absolutely. You know I’m not exactly a social butterfly. As far as I’m concerned, we could jusy floo over to the Ministry and take care of it right now.”

They both erupted into a fresh round of laughter, holding each other and clutching their sides at how funny and ridiculous the idea was.

Then, their eyes met, and their laughter faltered, growing more and more quiet until tense silence descended on the room. Their smiles dropped, and their suddenly serious eyes held a wordless conversation.

Finally, both their mouths crept back up into wide smiles, this time being full of mischief.