#drarry snippet

[accio-sriracha]

On The Ministry's Galleon

A snippet of a Drarry WIP <3

Content warning: slightly smutty implications

Everyone please feel free to send me any number between 1 and 200 to get a snippet from a fic!!

This is #3 for @garden-of-runar

Description:

Harry has to make a late night call to his Auror partner Malfoy about a case they're working on.

One thing leads to another, and nothing would ever be the same between them again.

(Or: Harry accidentally teaches Malfoy how to have phone sex.)

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Harry gave a frustrated sigh, staring at the paperwork that sprawled the table in front of him.

"Can't anybody get anything done around here? You're honestly telling me that neither of them has turned in their reports? It's been weeks, Malfoy."

Harry's voice was sharp, coming out far harsher than he meant for it to.

Malfoy made a strange sound on the other end. There was a sudden static he couldn't quite place. It sounded almost like the noise a blanket would make being moved too close to the receiver.

Harry paused.

"Are you in bed right now, Malfoy? Merlin, I'm sorry. I should have realised I was going to wake you up calling you at this hour."

He checked the time again. It was much later than he thought. He'd been working for nearly four hours.

"I'll-er, I'll let you get back to sleep, then. I'll finish up what I can from here. Thanks for the help." 

He was just about to hang up when the static suddenly got louder.

"Wait-" Malfoy's voice was far away. There were more shuffling sounds, then his voice was right next to the phone again. "Wait. I'm sorry. You're fine. I wasn't sleeping. It's these... muggle devices. They won't listen from far away." 

Harry frowned. Malfoy's voice was edging back towards that strange pitch from before.

"Right... earlier you said you were... cooking?" 

Malfoy exhaled slowly. The sound crackled in Harry's ear. "I might have lied about that." 

Harry laughed quietly. "Why would you lie about what you're doing?" He asked, a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

His tone was light, but Malfoy's panic only grew in response. 

"No- no, I- I didn't-" He stumbled over his words, something Harry had never heard him do before.

Harry's laugh was louder this time, more genuine.

"Malfoy, it's fine. I'm not judging you or whatever it is you're worried about." 

"Right." Malfoy made another odd, strangled sound. "I have to go-" 

"Wait-" Harry called. "Wait, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to pry. It's none of my business what you're doing."

He paused suddenly, remembering the sound of Draco's heavy breathing and edgy voice. That, and the fact that he was definitely lying in bed, caused another thought to pop unprompted into Harry's mind.

"Hang on... are you... are you with someone right now?" He asked.

"With someone?" Malfoy repeated distractedly. There was the sound of a drawer being rummaged through.

It took another moment longer before the question seemed to catch up with him.

"With- Salazar, Potter. I'm not some common whore." 

"I never said you were," Harry shot back, his laugh escaping him again without him meaning to.

He'd never laughed this much during a conversation with Malfoy... ever. 

"I'm just... I'm dealing with something at the moment and it's requiring more of my attention than I would like for it to." He cleared his throat, sounding awkward again.

This was strange for Harry. Never in all the years they'd known each other had Malfoy ever been awkward. 

"Do you need help?" Harry asked, frowning. "You seem... upset. Is there anything I can do?" 

It took a solid six seconds for Malfoy to reply.

"Please don't say that," he whispered. 

"Say what?" Harry asked. "Don't offer you help? I'm your partner, Malfoy. That's sort of what we do." 

Another strangled sound. 

"Potter-" His voice broke off. The phone made everything sound different than in person but Harry could still pick up the trace of panic. 

"Malfoy, tell me what you need." Harry sat up straighter in his chair, the beginnings of worry starting to spread through him. "Are you in trouble? Do you want me to come over?" 

"Oh, Merlin, please do not come over right now-" The words fell from his lips in a breathy sort of way, as if he'd been running a marathon and only just now had the chance to get some air. 

"Malfoy, tell me what's going on."

"I-" Malfoy broke off again. He made a sound in the back of his throat that Harry's couldn't quite make out. "Gods-" 

Harry's eyebrows pinched together. Everything about this was setting off all sorts of alarms in his mind. 

"Are you hurt? You sound hurt." Harry stood, collecting his things. "I'm coming over." 

"Wait-" Malfoy shouted suddenly, so loud Harry had to yank the phone back from his ear. "Wait- please. I-"

Harry could hear him swallow hard.

"I'm not hurt, I'm just... I'm just a little out of sorts at the moment. 

Harry snorted. "Yeah, I kind of gathered that already, Malfoy. If you don't tell me what's going on in the next five seconds, I'm flooing over to check on you." 

There was another sound, something similar to a choked sob.

Harry grabbed his wand, slipping into his boots on the way to the fireplace. 

"I'm-" Malfoy let out a slow breath again. "I'm dealing with an... intimate issue at the moment, Potter." 

His voice was so quiet Harry almost didn't hear him.

Harry kept walking even as he replied, swinging his coat over his shoulders without breaking his stride. 

"What? What does that mean? Like private? Malfoy, I don't care about your privacy if it means you don't get help when you're injured." 

"I'm-" Malfoy groaned in frustration. "I'm in the middle of something I would really prefer you not to walk in on." He amended, sounding strained. "It's difficult enough being on a call with you, I would just very much appreciate if you would give me some privacy while I try to... sort this out." 

Harry shook his head even though he knew Malfoy couldn't see him.

"Not good enough. You're acting weird. I'm not hanging up until I know you're okay." 

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Potter." Malfoy hissed, sounding closer to the phone again. "I'm... I was trying to get off before you called me, alright?" 

Harry froze mid-stride. It was a miracle he didn't drop the phone from his hand. 

He didn't reply, mostly out of shock, but partly because he didn't know what he would say if he could. 

[oflights]

wip snip 4.1

thank you for the tag, @teledild0nix! your wip seems like such an interesting start and i'm excited to see more of it!

here's about 900 words of the time travel fic, featuring a draco vs dumbledore confrontation 2.0 😌 i'll tag @the-starryknight, @kittycargo, @purplehotmess, and @chamomileteafuel to post their own with absolutely zero pressure!

in this snip, draco is in the past, has just made the absolutely insane decision to take harry with him, has put the dursleys to sleep, got harry to agree to go with him, was caught out by mrs. figg, and now dumbledore's here.

Albus Dumbledore stands before him.

He looks as if he’s just stepped off the Hogwarts grounds, in his familiar purple robes and wizard’s cap, his long beard stark white against the deep color. He doesn’t look any younger than the Dumbledore Draco had known, but he supposes that’s the trick of old wizards; he exudes a timeless sort of power that used to both intimidate and annoy Draco in turn. It’s doing both of those here, mixed with lingering, flickering guilt that had risen in him after the year he was 16 along with the resentment that had grown over the same time period.

Dumbledore is possibly the very last person Draco wants to see here; he can’t think of anyone worse off the top of his head.

Draco angles himself in front of Harry, putting his hand on his shoulder very gently, as Dumbledore stares at him before meeting Draco’s eyes.

“Lucius,” he says softly. Draco’s shoulders straighten instinctively, and he holds himself taller; his father is quite a bit taller than him. “You’ve cut your hair.”

He can feel Harry’s eyes on him and gives his shoulder a light, entreating squeeze, gathering his own strength, tipping his chin in the air and trying to gather the exact haughty cadence of his father’s voice on his tongue.

“Albus,” Draco says coldly, nodding stiffly, the name so odd and discomfiting in his mouth. “Yes; I’m told this is a more modern fashion.”

Dumbledore cracks a near smile at that, even though Draco had been careful not to leave even a hint of humor in his tone; his father never has and never would joke even lightly with Albus Dumbledore.

“It suits you.” His eyes shift back down to Harry, the lamplight glowing faintly in his spectacles. “Hello, Harry. It’s been a long time.”

Draco fights the urge to tighten his hand on Harry’s shoulder, to shove him further behind him. An unpleasant revelation is starting to niggle at him, like the edges of a bad dream he can’t quite recall, the outline of a thought he should be upset or angry about.

It starts to fill in when Harry says, “Hello, sir. I’m sorry, I don’t remember you.”

“I met you when you were just a baby,” Dumbledore says. “I arranged for you to live here with your family.”

He knew, Draco realizes, the thought screaming through his consciousness. Behind him, Harry stiffens up too, and crowds in a bit at Draco’s hip. Draco reaches his arm over to rest on Harry’s farther shoulder, looped behind his back. He has let go of the pouch of sand to hold his wand instead.

Dumbledore must have known exactly where he left Harry. He’d known that Draco was here—and suddenly Mrs. Figg and her cats and her cabbages, staggering out through a horrible storm, makes a whole lot of sense—and he’d have known from her reports what the Dursleys were like, as least some of it. Now Draco wishes he hadn’t destroyed the padlock and the cupboard door, just to march Dumbledore in front of it, make him stand there and explain himself.

But that’s not right, either—Draco has heard Dumbledore explain himself before. He remembers hearing about mercy, about the all-knowing, omniscient Headmaster of the school he attended as a child knowing a student had been pressed into committing murder and doing absolutely fuck-all about it. He remembers not being a killer. And for a moment, he is so angry he can’t quite remember why he’s not.

Draco draws his wand. Dumbledore hasn’t drawn his, simply looks mildly disappointed; he tilts his head to the side.

“Your wand. Another new fashion?”

Draco ignores him, glancing at the mirror. He can’t take Harry through it if Dumbledore plans to stop them; while this method of time travel was only invented after Dumbledore’s death, even an idiot would recognize the way to stop travel through a mirror would be to break it. Draco has an awful vision of Harry stuck in a mirror shard for years before Dumbledore lets him out to fulfill his Dark Lord killing destiny and dismisses it out of hand, thinking over his options.

He has a backup, of course, a small hand mirror he keeps in another inner pocket, but he doesn’t think two people can get through it intact, even someone as small as Harry. He could also try doing it the hard way, pure magic, no instruments or sand, the way a Time Master does—instinct, focus, careful and measured steps through time—but he’s not quite there yet. He’s only ever managed short and quick jumps after years of practice, and never with another person. He won’t risk it now; won’t risk Harry.

So Draco will have to incapacitate Dumbledore somehow; he didn’t really have dueling the most powerful wizard in an age wielding the bloody Elder wand on his to-do list for today, but then he hadn’t really had any of this on it.

He clutches his own wand, looking at it for a moment—Potter had given it back to him years ago, looking utterly pained to do so, forcing out a huffy sort of “Thanks, I guess,” while eyeing Draco like he was a bug a cat had spit up. It’s still one of their most positive interactions to date.

He hadn’t known until it was over that he’d briefly been the owner of the Elder wand. The thought of having a second crack at it isn’t all that unappealing.

[lqtraintracks]

Oooooh! "Chime" and "sun" for the ask game, please? 😊

Thanks so much for the words! I went with ‘sun’ and this little bit from my last year’s Erised, Jasmine in Bloom. If you don’t want to be spoiled for something that’s a bit of a reveal in the fic then skip this for now! <3

Eventually, they take the main road out of town, and Harry walks in that slightly lopsided way he has to avoid putting his whole weight on his bad leg, managing to look up at the night sky from time to time.

“Do you feel afraid of it still? The moon?” Draco asks.

“Are you afraid of the sun?” Harry counters.

“I’d be a fool not to be,” Draco says.

Harry nods, sighing. “It’s not the same, I realise. The moon brings out something uncomfortable and dangerous in me. The sun…”

“Kills me,” Draco says, then, “Turn here.”

[basiatlu]

Snippet Monday

Thanks for tagging me @squintclover and a very merry belated birthday to youuuuu 🥰🥳

Lots of cropped goodies to show!

I shall tag @littlewinnow @mono-chromia @kk1smet @drarrargh and anyone else who would like to take part! ♡♡♡

[amomorii]

Sunday Snippets

Thank you for the tag @appleslightning !!! Here's some belated snippets from wips and potentially abandoned pieces

I have no idea who to tag so whomever sees this and wants to share snippets, you are hereby tagged :)

[fastbrother]

Trash Thursday?

Thank you @phoenixortheflame for the tag. This was supposed to be my entry for Wireless 2024, but in the end it felt too much like a longfic and I couldn't make it work.

The Malfoy Affair

It takes multiple (seven) glasses of wine for Harry to sit down next to Draco. Soon, they’re stumbling upstairs towards Harry’s bedroom, half naked and breathless. They’ve done this many times (enough for Draco to know where Harry keeps his t-shirts). They fall asleep just as the sky reddens, not quite touching, not quite apart. * * * They work together. It would be too complicated. What if they fought, then had to spend the day stuck in a car, trailing some Dark Wizard who’s failing at passing for a Muggle? And Harry’s not gay. He’s never been with a man before. And anyway, it would be too complicated. They work together. * * * It’s weird, being with a man. Harry’s not used to how broad Draco’s back is. He’s not used to the low moans, the firm hands grabbing the sheets. There’s girls in between, so that Harry can be shocked anew by Draco’s body every time it happens. Draco knows it. He doesn’t look at him during. He doesn’t speak, if he can help it. He keeps his hair long, hasn’t cut it once in the year they’ve been doing this. Harry pretends he hasn’t noticed. Draco pretends he hasn’t noticed Harry noticed. * * * They fell into a routine at some point. It always starts with drinking and it always ends the moment they get out of the bed in the morning. In one motion, they stop being what they were the second before (lovers) and they become co-workers. Two Aurors, having breakfast. Today is no exception. Harry’s boiling the water for tea and Draco is reading the Daily Prophet. “Oh,” he says, chair creaking as he leans back. “Somebody from the DMLE got fired yesterday.”

I'm tagging @pl0tty, @mallstars, @sleepstxtic, @edieblakewrites. As an extra, here is a screenshot of my Abandoned folder in all its glory:

[handledwithgloves]

monday snippet 🍓

ty for tagging me @drarrargh 🫶

tagging: everyone who sees this and wants to join in on the fun 🫶😋

[its-the-allure]

Last line WIP Snip

Thanks for the tags this time around @noctilucous, @faiell and @the-forbidden-forest. I enjoyed reading yours @slightweasel, @citrusses, @desertforestfic, @yiiiiiiiikes25 and a bunch of people I likely forgot.

Here’s a wee snip from my latest WIP, a one-shot follow-up to Come As You Are:

They ate in comfortable silence. Soon Draco had drained the last of his tea and summoned his pack of cigarettes. As the scent of cloves filled the room, Harry grinned.

“What?” Draco asked, blowing out a plume of smoke.

“I’ve just been wondering. What they taste like.”

“You’re welcome to try one,” Draco offered, gesturing with his lit cigarette.

“No thanks. I actually was wondering about something else.” Harry stepped closer to Draco, into his space.

Raising one pale eyebrow, Draco abandoned the cigarette into his empty teacup. “Oh really?”

No pressure tag to anyone who sees this and wants to share! But okay I’ll be un-shy and tag a few peeps! @kamaela @tessacrowley @thusspoketrish @toomuchplor @bewarethesmirk @moonflower-rose @dodgerkedavra @newskyillusion @tripably @edieblakee @lqtraintracks Please tag me, I want to read them all!

[accio-sriracha]

The Scars Kept Hidden

A snippet from an unpublished drarry fic

Okay... @bradleysass won, I'm releasing my wip arsenal. (Definitely not just because it's easier content than actually finishing these wips...)

Enjoy this snippet from an eighth year drarry fic!!

"Where have you been?" Pansy demanded as he entered the common room, "You do realise how late it is, don't you?"

Draco waved a hand dismissively, "They aren't enforcing curfew on Eighth years, you know that."

"C'mon, Dray." Blaise sighed, standing up from his armchair, "We were worried. Where were you?"

"I was with Potter." Draco conceded, only because he knew they probably were worried.

With the amount of people out to get him, he had to be extra careful not to go out alone.

"You were with Potter?" Pansy repeated slowly, "Are you okay?"

He knew what she meant by that. Despite the concern in her eyes, he knew she was asking what he did to him.

"Oh, for the love of Salazar. I am capable of being around him without hexing him, you know?"

Pansy held up her hands, "Alright. I'm sorry." She shared a look with Blaise, "Did anything... was anything said?" She asked.

Draco cocked an eyebrow, "No, we stuck to handwritten notes the whole time, actually." He quipped.

"You know what I mean. About the- About the trial?"

This made Draco freeze, he hadn't been expecting that question,

"What about it?" He asked quietly.

"Did he say anything at all about it? About who he might have spoken for?" Blaise asked, hesitating, "Or against?"

Suddenly it all made sense. The way they were looking at him like some sort of wounded puppy. how they stayed up waiting for him to get back.

He let out an irritated laugh, dripping with venom,

"Oh, Merlin, I can't believe I didn't think to ask! Maybe next time the two of us are having a friendly chat about the war that traumatised an entire population of people, I'll be sure to bring it up. Maybe I'll even ask about his parents next, or what it was like being dead!" He snapped, turning around and marching towards the boy's dormitories.

He ignored Pansy calling after him, ignored the knocking at the door and the quiet apologies.

He couldn't believe they thought he would actually ask something like that, as if he and Potter were just dying to rehash some of the worst moments of their lives.

Draco stayed awake for a long time, his head swimming with thoughts of Harry Potter.

He couldn't help it, the way Potter had treated him like they were friends.

He knew it was only temporary, they had acted that way when they were alone, but Draco knew the glares and sarcastic comments would be back within the first five minutes of actually having class together.

"Draco?" Blaise's voice drifted through the darkness of their room late that night.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think you'll finally let Potter go this year?" He asked.

"Let him go?" Draco repeated, "How do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Dray." He whispered.

The knowing tone of his voice made Draco's heart skip a beat.

"I'm afraid I don't, actually." He replied, attempting in vain to keep the defensive tone out of his own voice.

"Alright. Just..." He paused. Draco sat up and looked at him, his expression was worried even through the darkness, "Just try not to get hurt, yeah?" He asked.

Draco rolled his eyes, "Potter couldn't hurt me even if I was standing still and unarmed."

Blaise just shook his head quietly, a defeated sigh that said all too much falling from his lips, "Goodnight, Dray." He whispered.

"Night, Blaise." Draco turned over, pulling the covers up past his shoulders.

He couldn't remember the last time Blaise had been that serious with him and it unnerved him greatly.

He tried not to think of the implications as he drifted off to sleep.

[drarrargh]

monday snippets

thank you!! for tagging me @littlewinnow and @basiatlu !!! you guys are so rad

here are some monday snippets that are in fact wednesday snippets. they are maybe a little funny

tagging my beloveds @spacesaz @storiestoldbytime @appleslightning @handledwithgloves and @tinygxrilla :DD

[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]

hello! for the ask game i'd like to request: drip, noise or croon

Hi there! :D How about ‘drip’ and a little sex worker Harry from Heart Like Neon (excerpt is explicit):

“Do you like that?” Malfoy’s words drip down on him, and Harry doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even want to lie about it. He lifts his mouth and whispers, “Yes,” then laps under the crown in a way that has Malfoy inhaling sharply, before Harry takes it down again.

It’s not long, not long at all, before Malfoy says, “Potter…”—a breath, a sigh, fingers sliding tight into Harry’s hair again.

It’s an undeniable thrill. Harry takes Malfoy by the hips and bobs his head. Nice of him to warn Harry, of course. Exceedingly considerate. But there’s no way in hell Harry’s going to lift off now, not unless it’s what Malfoy wants. And it’s not. No, he wants to see Harry swallow it. He wants to see it drip down his face. At merely the thought, Harry moans again. And this is what sets Malfoy off.

[itsphantasmagoria]

Weekday Snippets

Thanks for tagging me @appleslightning ❤️❤️❤️

The ones on the right are smut and are heeeeeavily cropped lol

Tagging whoever wants to do this! (I am tired and brain cells aren’t colliding right now)

[basiatlu]

✨️Sunday WIP Snip✨️

Thanks to @vukovich for the tag! Here I come strolling in with an hr-ish to spare (for my timezone at least)

Here are some out of context thumbnails, some unused sketches, and some preliminary drawings for stuff and things and bits:

[chericheribaby]

snippet time! 🕺🕺

ty for the tags guys! @inevitablestars @rollercoasterwords & @veryinnovative <3

this is from chapter 1 of my drarry fic

But Draco didn’t die, then. He wasn’t killed by the cold, like he onced wished on those long feverish nights. He survived, like any good Slytherin would. He even outlived the living tumor that was housed in his ancestor’s grounds; he survived the war that brought the rise and fall of everything he knew about the world.  And afterwards the trials, where he came on the other side with his mind somewhat intact.  He still doesn’t know how he survived that particular time, more of a ghost than a human, then. Back when everyone wanted a piece of him, to tear and break. To step on. To spit on.  No one wanted to look at him and yet, all eyes followed him wherever he went—the youngest Death Eater, for everyone to see. The one who wasn’t good enough to be a proper villain nor good enough to be a hero. That general distaste was what made him make it through it.  That and Harry Potter.

np tags: @rae-lune @static-radio-ao3 @velanavis @residentrookie @kaaaaaaarf @fruityindividual @aeoneskova @calamitoustide @messymoony (sorry if you have already been tagged) and open tag!

[olivers-cocoapuffs]

Teddy glances between Ron and Draco before extending his arms towards Ron. Draco’s jaw drops in offence as Ron barks a laugh and takes Teddy out of Harry’s arms, settling back into his seat. Blaise wraps an arm around Ron’s shoulders, watching him and Teddy affectionately.