#drarry drabble

[drarrymyheart]

Discord Drabble challenge - Aug 2024

Prompt: Restart

Word count: 137

Potter,

This letter is to express gratitude on behalf of my mother and myself for your speech before the Wizengamot. Although egregiously sanctimonious,—

Potter,

You needn’t have — Why—

I NEVER WANTED YOUR HELP

Potter,

Was one life debt not enough to hold over my head?

I don’t deserve—

You continuously insert yourself into my life until I can think of nothing else. Dreams and waking hours consumed by your green eyes and disfigured face, your back pressed to my chest surrounded by heat and smoke, your arse—

Do all trainee Auror uniforms fit like that or is it just yours that is so tight it’s indecent?

Potter,

What happens now?

Potter,

I don’t think I’ve really hated you for years.

Potter,

Thank you.

-DLM

P.S. Mother has invited you for tea. Saturday 3pm. Don’t be late.

[graymatters]

You're so gorgeous

@fluffbruary drarry drabble day 14. In March. With a TS song instead of the real prompt.

“Granger.”

“Malfoy.”

Draco has watched the Golden Trio from across the gala all evening, rudely ignored, until Granger wanders over with a toothy smile.

“He’s yapped about you all night,” Granger says. “Sixth year all over again.”

“Really? He’s good at pretending I don’t exist.”

“It’s a compliment.”

“Hardly.”

“He thinks you’re gorgeous,” she says, smirking. “And you wore that suit to scare the shit out of him.”

“Speculation.” Draco preens. “But hypothetically… It worked?”

Across the hall, Potter’s gaze finds Draco until he collides with a chair. He straightens, face beet-red.

Granger cocks a brow. “What do you think?”

[phoebe-delia]

His Hands

There is a good chance I've written something like this before. But I don't remember and honestly don't really feel like checking. So. Here's this, potentially again. CW: brief implied smut

Malfoy lowering his outstretched hand, hurt and anger flashing in his eyes. Malfoy leveling his wand at Harry's chest with a sneer. Malfoy pressing creases into parchment until he's got a paper crane ready to launch from his palm. Malfoy plucking the snitch from the air and waving it around triumphantly for all to see. Malfoy's fingers pinning a badge to his robes, the words Potter Stinks flashing across the plastic. Malfoy's fist flying into Harry's face.

Malfoy's palms flat on the marble floor where he kneels, stares, and "can't be sure." Malfoy's loose hold on the wands Harry easily pries from his grasp. Malfoy pulling himself to safety onto Harry's broom and gripping his waist for dear life as they narrowly escape the flames.

Malfoy visibly nervous when he offers a handshake yet again, except this time it's outside Courtroom Ten and paired with gratitude and an apology. Harry accepts it all.

Draco gesturing wildly when he talks about magical theory with a gleam in his eye. Draco's meticulous chopping and stirring in Potions, lip pulled between his teeth. Draco biting his thumbnail as he ponders his next chess move. Draco, so tactile in his affection, clapping Harry on the back after a hard-won Quidditch game. Draco twirling his wand before he casts a clever hex during a duel in DADA. Draco, who learns about Muggle thumb wrestling and challenges Harry whenever they’re bored in History of Magic.

Draco immediately running his fingers through Harry’s curls when Harry can’t take it anymore and finally kisses him. Draco taking Harry’s hand when they walk down the halls. Draco mapping every inch of Harry’s body with his hands, his lips, his tongue.

Draco sorting through the mail at the flat they rent next year. Draco swiping a finger through the icing on the spatula and licking it off to make sure Harry’s birthday cake is perfect.

Draco tearing up when Harry slides an engagement ring on his finger. Draco pulling Harry close when they dance at their wedding. Draco, with a towel draped over his shoulder, holding an infant James against him and patting his back. Draco massaging the knots out of Harry's back after a long day. Draco tucking their kids in at night with bedtime stories and forehead kisses. Draco applauding the loudest at dance recitals and Quidditch games and graduations.

Draco flipping him off with a laugh when they bicker. Draco clenching his fists in determination. Draco, with wonder in his eyes, tracing Harry's jaw and cupping his cheek like he still can't believe he can have this.

Draco taking Harry’s hand and never, ever letting go.

[orange-peony]

Written for @flufftober with the prompt "fireplace".

A little wolfstar raising Harry, rated T.

“He’s so irritating.”

“Tell me about it,” Sirius says. “He’s my cousin Cissa’s son.”

“And he’s so bloody posh!”

“Language,” Remus chides gently from the kitchen, busy with Christmas preparations.

“The b word is not swearing,” Harry declares with a frown, then softly, to Sirius, “is it, Pads?”

“Nah,” Sirius says, waving his hand in dismissal. “Tell me more about that obnoxious Malfoy kid.”

*  ~  *

“And he’s so fucking annoying with his pointy face and his white-blond hair,” Harry says, scratching his arm where another mosquito bite is swelling up.

“Language!” Remus says, even though Sirius can’t even see him. His husband seems to have a special radar for swear words.

“Sorry,” Harry says, looking much less concerned than he probably should. Sirius feels a little guilty because he’s always swearing in front of Harry, but brushes it off as teenagers being teenagers. “And he’s just—so tall and so smart and so…”

“So?” Sirius asks with a frown.

“So irritatingly fit!”

“Wait, what?” 

*  ~  *

“Do you think they’re going to spend much longer snogging on the train platform?” Sirius asks with a resigned sigh.

Remus chuckles and wraps his arms around Sirius’s waist, pulling him closer.

“Summer is long when you’re seventeen,” Remus says calmly.

“But they’re going to see each other in a couple of days!” Sirius protests. “We’re dragging the brat to France with us on holiday.”

“If I recall correctly,” Remus starts, his voice like a caress on Sirius’s cheek. “The first time we parted for a couple of days, you cried and begged me to come and visit you at James’s house.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sirius replies grumpily.

He thinks a kiss is in order, at least to distract him from his godson being snogged within an inch of his life by a Malfoy.

*  ~  *

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Sirius groans, covering his face with his hands and making Draco squeal in embarrassment.  

He supposes it’s kind of his fault. He should have probably sent his Patronus to Harry before Flooing straight to his kitchen. But Harry is his son. And he’s been living on his own for only a week, so Sirius was worried and wanted to check on him.

He wasn’t expecting to find Draco Malfoy making himself tea in Harry’s kitchen, wearing only Harry’s oversized hoodie and a pair of boxers.

Sirius covers his eyes and makes a disgruntled sound.

“I’m going to go grab my pyjama bottoms,” Draco says. “I’ve made enough tea for an army. Help yourself, Sirius.”

“It’s Mr Black-Lupin for you,” Sirius grumbles.

“Oh, stop being impossible, Pads,” Harry croaks, appearing by the kitchen door wearing just a pair of pants and a collection of love bites. “Morning, love. Thanks for making tea.”

*  ~  *

The fireplace roars to life as a green flame appears and Draco’s blond head pokes through.

“May I come in?” he asks, looking extremely nervous.

“Of course,” Remus says, uncrossing his legs and sitting up.

And Sirius should have known. He should have fucking known, because Draco sendt an official request to speak to him and Remus, written on the fanciest parchment Sirius has ever seen (and he grew up with a bunch of pure bloods). Draco is wearing the most dazzling formal robes, and he has a small, blue box clutched in his shaking hands. He looks like he’s about to be sick. He looks even paler than usual.

“I—I know you have your reservations about me, and rightfully so,” Draco starts, and Sirius is about to say well, of course, you little Harry-thief, but Remus places a hand on his thigh, and Sirius just exhales and listens. “But I love Harry with all my heart. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love him, and I promise I will spend the rest of my life trying to make him the happiest man on earth. So, please, I know I’m asking you an awful lot, but…”

“Can we say no?” Sirius asks, but Remus pokes him in the ribs.

“Of course, you can marry Harry,” Remus says with a warm smile, and Draco starts crying straight away, looking at Sirius, waiting for his approval.

Sirius sighs.

He should have seen this coming.

He really should have.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “But I reserve the right to tease you both mercilessly and to swear in front of your kids.”

“Deal,” Draco says with the brightest grin.

[sincerely-yours-rab]

draco malfoy, who spits his plosives and enunciates his t's and accentuates his i's so his posh accent spills through each and every word, a reminder to others exactly who they're speaking to, a reminder to himself of that feigned authority he clutches onto dearly, that same authority driven into him since as long as he can remember from his father, authority not earned but owned, possessed within himself, deserved, his birthright punctuating each turn of phrase

draco malfoy, whose instinct at any slight is to cut back with words twice as sharp and three times as damning, vocabulary well-versed with a plethora of pithy comebacks and quips and insults that leave those who dare speak against him dumb with shock or stuttering with shame

draco malfoy, who from the moment he locked eyes with the dark haired boy spoke his name with every ounce of distaste on his tongue, becoming stunned to silence when that same boy speaks to him with a sort of care he'd only ever heard in those rare, quiet moments from the mouth of his mother, the same gentle lilt followed by that soft smile that makes his throat feel thick and his face feel hot

draco malfoy, whose sharp witted snake-of-a-tongue is miraculously tamed by that boy rumoured to be able to speak with serpents

draco malfoy, who is only ever at a loss for words around harry potter

[bahkeks]

As Draco stirs a final time, his final potion for his final NEWT, the scents came rushing up to him all at once.

Star Grass. Something his mum used to rub on her temples for migraines.

Mahogany. His trusty broom. If he closes his eyes, that smell could transport him to the sky.

And… something else woody. Not mahogany, but the woods. Earthy. Mixed with leather. And burning. A burning that fills him with fear and trust.

He stills.

Looks up.

Harry is looking back at him with the same expression of terrified desire, above his own cauldron of Amortentia.

my first attempt at a drabble, for the @drarrymicrofic prompt: Love Potion.

[gryfferin-gaybies]

Drarry Drabble

100 words from one of my many WIPs

Draco’s voice is small when he says, “I have to tell you something that might make you hate me.”

“I could—“ never, Harry wants to tell his husband, but he can’t. It would be a lie and they both know it.

Draco looks at Harry then. His eyes are filled with so much agony and self loathing that Harry aches for him. He can tell that Draco knows exactly how that sentence was going to end, and why it didn’t.

He rushes to fix it. “I’ll forgive you. I’ll always forgive you.” It’s true. For them, there was nothing truer.

[castrology-x]

never knew (i’ve been looking at you my whole life)

Potter is staring. Again.  

Draco can’t help it. He notices. He notices everything about Harry Potter – how he takes his cup of coffee every morning (“Black, please, two sugars”); how he drums his fingers on his knees when he’s getting impatient; how he (unconsciously) rubs the skin on the back of his right hand when he’s trying to evade giving answers.  

And now he notices Potter not paying attention to Professor Bones’ discourse on Concealment and Disguise, instead choosing to exchange notes with a slyly smirking Weasley while looking at him, for some odd reason. Draco tries to muster up a scowl, but only feels his cheeks go pink and looks away quickly, hoping Potter didn’t catch his flustered (smitten) state.  

No such luck. He groans internally when out of the corner of his eye, he sees Potter looking at him with a surprised grin and an almost soft look in his eyes – which embarrassingly makes Draco want to see more of that expression when Potter’s gaze is directed towards him. He hears the professor wind up the lecture (“And we wrap up here for today, everyone. Good day to all of you.”) and glances over at Potter again. He has no right to be that gorgeous, not with his unkempt hair all over the place and those glasses that don’t even fit. Merlin, what wouldn’t he give to just –  

That’s quite enough of Potter-watching, he tells himself sternly, packing away his things. He doesn’t deserve this little bit of happiness anyway. The war will forever be a stain on his soul. His tenure as a Death Eater, his subsequent cowardice, his inability to choose either side in the end. All adding up to the fact that he simply hasn’t earned the right to Potter’s affection.  

The truth is, Harry fucking Potter was the one who testified at his trial. And that only compounds the reality that Potter’s a bloody saint. He’s too sodding compassionate and forgiving and good and everything Draco isn’t.  

And yet, Draco can’t help it.   

He wants. But he can’t have this. 

He quickly hurries out, but someone catches his arm. Potter.

“Draco. Wait up. I need to ask you something.” 

Draco stops. 

Draco. Draco. Potter called him Draco. As if – as if they were friends, as if Potter knew him. Ask me anything you’d like, his heart sings. I’ll give you the world.  

“Do you want to grab a cuppa together sometime?”  

Draco isn’t expecting – that. He stares wide-eyed at Potter for a few seconds, wondering if he heard that right. Potter wets his (maddeningly pretty) lips and runs a hand through his frankly infuriatingly (glossy) messy hair, endearingly nervous. 

“Forget it. I don’t know what I was thinkin–” 

“Do you mean like... a date? Because in that case. Erm. I would love to. It would be my pleasure” is what falls out of his mouth, unbidden.

He is mortified. Salazar knows his mother taught him better than to spit out things like that. Well, it isn’t like he can do anything about it now. Can’t take back words already spoken. Draco clears his throat. Waits a few seconds, then quickly looks up and – 

Is Potter – is Potter blushing? It’s hard to tell, but Draco thinks he can spot tinges of red appear at the tips of his cheekbones. Potter doesn’t seem to know what to say next, just nods and keeps on bloody looking and smiling. Draco deems it only fair to let him squirm. Serves him right for all that time he spent sniggering with Weasley when he ought to have been listening to Professor Bones. 

“I’ll see you around, then?” Potter phrases it as a question. 

“Of course, you prat. Not that I understand why you’d even want to look at me after what I’ve done.” The last part is muttered under his breath, not meant for Potter’s ears. But of course he’d hear it.  

“Draco,” he sighs. “You were just a kid. You didn’t deserve any of it. Even if you were a bit of a moron for the most part. Even now.” 

“Draco,” he murmurs. “Merlin, I love saying your name. I love seeing your eyes dance with wonder and your cheeks pinken whenever I look at you.” 

“Draco,” he breathes. “I’ve only ever been looking at you, love. Before I even met you, I think I was looking for you.”

written for the @drarrymicrofic prompt, “stain”. i just love these two idiots. i also loved writing draco pining here, because goddamn. he can be so lyrical sometimes with how he yearns for harry. this is kind of a mess and i’m not too satisfied with how it turned out, but i couldn’t get this idea out of my head so there y’all go.

[m4tt13w0rld]

drarry fic where a morally-good draco malfoy finds out in 5th year that harry was supposed to be a slytherin; he uses this to their advantage and starts teaching harry about the nuances of slytherin society: being resourceful, cunning, and networking like a true socialite.

[starlitsilvereyes]

Written for @drarrymicrofic's prompt: Slide | Rating: E | Warnings: Smut | Read on Ao3

Draco’s breath gets knocked out of him as Harry slides in, agonisingly slow, one hand on Draco’s arse cheek to keep him open for him and the other grasping Draco’s hand.

“Too fast?” Harry pants, pressing his forehead against Draco’s shoulder in an attempt to keep himself steady.

Draco only whines, nearly fucking himself on Harry out of pure desperation.

Harry watches himself disappear inside Draco’s body for a moment, relishing the show Draco has decided to perform for him. Until it entirely becomes too much for the both of them, and Harry decides to finally fuck Draco properly, gripping his hips with both of his hands.

Draco turns his head, unconcerned about the odd angle, as Harry leans in and moans into Draco’s open mouth.

Nothing has ever felt more like coming home.

art commissions: open ☕️

[graymatters]

Ad Infinitum

28 days of Drarry Drabbles for @fluffbruary. Day 1 prompt: dark. Thanks @andithiel for the beta.

Draco knows it’s bad this time. It’s the crunch when Harry lands, broom splintered to pieces. Harry smiles at him, beaming, despite his fractured bones, despite dark maroon staining his robes. They’re experts at despite.

Draco kneels, brushes curls from Harry’s forehead, and magic flows from his fingertips, stitching Harry’s wounds, leaving threads of Draco in its wake.

How much of Draco lives between Harry’s cells? Within them?

“Got the Snitch.” Devastating, that grin.

“Harry, what am I going to do with you?” But Draco smiles, too, because he’ll do exactly this, ad infinitum. The fussing, the mending, everything after.

AO3

[phoebe-delia]

I Have Never Been Loved Like This Before

Title from the song "Rock Me Gently" by Andy Kim. CW: very very minor injury

Scorpius will know gentle hands waking him in the morning. He will know lullabies sung low and soft in his ear. He'll have careful fingers sealing the bandage on his knees, and lips pressing a healing kiss to his injured skin. He'll wear colorful, soft clothes, have dozens of storybooks, and cuddle with plenty of stuffed animal friends to keep nightmares at bay. He'll never have a rotten Christmas or a lonely birthday. He'll want for nothing, but he'll never take it for granted.

"But most of all," Harry whispered to the pink-cheeked infant in Draco's arms, "I promise, that we will never let you know what it's like to feel unloved. "

[livingforthehopeofitall02]

~~~

“You’re my mortal enemy after all.” Harry said but with a bit of humour as if not sure any more of how to speak to Draco after all of it. Of course, he didn’t think of him as his enemy. But they weren’t friends. And now they had no other reason to talk.

Draco’s face moved from fear to confusion to sadness and then finally settled on deep regret. He looked at his feet as he said, “Look, Potter. I…know it would mean nothing in the larger scheme of things, but I am sorry. About everything.” Looking up he continues, “I am not your enemy. Not anymore.” Not sure if I ever truly was, he thought. “I am sorry. I don’t wish you ill will. I am nothing to you anymore, if that is any consolation. I won’t be in your way. We have no connection. No reason to talk anymore. And I’ll do my best to keep it that way.” He left with his head slightly bowed. The heaviness of it all coming crashing down. It was over. The war was over. Harry had won, thank Merlin. The question of his future and what to do with it was still hanging over his head but for now he was glad that it was over despite no longer having any reason to associate or even talk to Potter. It’s better this way.

Meanwhile, Harry stood still. He felt rattled.

Nothing. No connection. No reason to talk anymore.

He wanted to do many things in the moment. Call out to him. Reach out. Ask for a new start. But what reason could he give?

Draco said they were nothing to each other.

Nothing. It didn’t sit well with him.

~~~

[lqtraintracks]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Words: 200 Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Additional Tags: Shaving, Facial Shaving, Shaving Kink, Praise Kink, Hand Kink, Size Kink, Hair Kink, Body Worship, Sensory Deprivation, Blindfolds, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs Summary: Draco Malfoy's a barber. Harry goes for a shave. He gets that and more. A/N: Written for @maesterchill whose prompts slayed me! <3

[gryfferin-gaybies]

Drarry Drabble

"Don't move," Harry whispers in his ear urgently, gripping Draco's hips to prevent him from standing from Harry's lap.

Confused, Draco shifts in Harry's lap to look at him. That's when he feels something hard and familiar brushing the underside of his thigh.

"Fuck," Harry mumbles at the friction. "Just give me a minute."

Draco smirks and turns back to the group, knowing his expression is probably giving himself away but he couldn't care less. He's too busy thinking about the ways he would be giving himself away to Harry behind the closed doors of his bedroom later that evening.

[dodgerkedavra]

Hey, if you are still accepting drabble request, one prompt from me : Butterfly

Thank you!

Harry wakes alone. He takes the Floo, glasses on but no shoes.

The Manor’s quiet. He pads through pools of pink-and-orange sunrise. Across the green, dewy lawn.

Draco’s cross-legged on a blanket, wearing his own posh sleep trousers and one of Harry’s vests. The sad curve of his spine makes him look young.

Harry sits next to him.

After a silent minute watching Narcissa’s roses together, Draco rests his head on Harry’s shoulder. Harry holds him close.

A yellow butterfly flits into the garden and alights on a peach-coloured bloom.

“I miss you,” Draco whispers.

The butterfly opens its wings.