#drunk Harry

[awyeahitssam]

Harry giggles. His limbs feel lighter than usual, almost as if bubbles are making them float a bit. He can still control them, but it's a vague, interesting sort of control. Fun.

Harry lets sleep take him. The world whirls around him in sparks of disorienting colours, and Harry watches with a broad smile. It should make him dizzy, but he feels in the middle of something fantastic—a watercolour painting come to life. It's brilliant. Elating.

It stops as suddenly as it starts. Voldemort stares at him from across a desk. "Harry Potter," he sounds almost surprised.

Harry blinks at him. He still feels light, like he is floating, but also distantly sad. "Are you okay?" he asks thoughtlessly.

Confusion masks itself behind anger. Voldemort masks everything behind anger. "Pardon?"

"I’d never felt as good as I did a moment ago," Harry confesses, drawing closer to the Dark Lord. Red eyes track him suspiciously. Harry's chest aches. "But now, looking at you… it makes me so sad."

Thoughtlessly, Harry reaches out, and Voldemort lets him. It’s how Harry knows this can’t be real. That it’s just a silly, drunken dream. Their fingers intertwine, though Voldemort’s hand remains stiff and cold in his gentle grip.

"Aren’t you lonely?" Harry wonders. "Is that yours I feel pressing in, or my own? Even without you," Harry smiles, crooked and small, brushing an irreverent thumb over his scar, "I’m sure it’d be there. People always isolate the freak."

Voldemort’s hand twitches in Harry’s, and he hums, focus dropping from red eyes to trace the long fingers with his own.

"Everybody’s frightened of you. You isolate yourself from friendship, from love, from time itself... don’t you want, Voldemort? I can feel that you do—you’re never satisfied, are you? Will it ever be enough? The world at your feet, no attachments, nobody to challenge you—is that your dream, or your nightmare?"

"You’re speaking nonsense, boy," Voldemort says, but it comes out odd. Stilted. "You presume much."

"Is it presumption when I feel you?" Harry asks genuinely, brows drawing together, hand lifting to press over his heart. Voldemort is dragged with him, pulled a bit over the desk, and Harry blinks in surprise before realizing he still has a grip on the other’s hand. He lets go slowly, and Voldemort pulls back with a scowl.

"You are drunk," the wizard snaps with disgust. "You know nothing of what Lord Voldemort feels."

Harry finds the words… annoying.

"You feel so loudly, though," he returns sharply, moving forward, sliding onto Voldemort’s desk. Ink spills over—Voldemort hisses in annoyance and the stain is gone with a thought—dreams are a magic of their own—Voldemort’s forehead is cold and smooth. Harry bears the man's mark. He presses his scarred head to the smooth. Long, clawed fingers are wrapped around his wrist. His throat.

"Right here, always pressing in," Harry continues, heedless of his position, precarious as it is. "You feel so much it hurts, Voldemort. You hate so much. You’re never just happy. And I was, am, could be. So just take some, won’t you?"

Red eyes are narrow, intent, fascinated as they dart over Harry’s face, trying to gather his meaning. "How do you propose I do that?"

"How does one normally take pleasure?" Harry wonders. Voldemort grimaces, pulling away quickly, and it takes Harry’s bubbling mind a moment to put what he said to context.

"No," he chokes on a laugh, "I’m not asking you to—to snog. To fuck. Just open yourself up. You’re so good at taking, usually, but all you’re doing is giving. Don’t you want to feel like this? Light? Thrilled?"

"You don’t even know what you sound like, do you?" The question is rhetorical. Voldemort’s hand tightens over his throat, until Harry’s breathing grows thinner. "You wish for me to let your happiness pass my Occlumency, as though you have not just slipped through yourself. As if you have no method to make Lord Voldemort feel your pleasure; as if you want to give Lord Voldemort pleasure at all."

Harry touches the hand on his neck, slowly tightening with Voldemort’s rant, and a spark lights his fingers. Voldemort’s hand spasms before it drops. Harry takes a deep breath, glaring balefully. His light-hearted air has faded.

"Perhaps I would give you pleasure so your misery would be all the worse for it," he bites out. The world is fuzzy, but no longer from alcohol. From being choked. Even in his dreams, his life is threatened by this man.

"A pretty plot," says Voldemort. There is something very condescending in his voice; he is clearly looking down on Harry. Doubting him. It’s nothing new, but it makes the sting of anger grow in him. "Very well. If you can conjure happiness as you peer into the face of your death, Harry Potter, then do. Make me feel it, if you can."

Harry’s nails bite into his palm and release. He takes a breath and lets his eyes flutter closed. He focuses.

Happiness. What does it feel like? Like floating, as he was moments ago, or like getting an anticipated hug—not his first, not all the ones he flinched away from, but a hug from Hermione when they’ve almost just died. An arm around Ron’s waist as the boy drapes one around his shoulder. Laughing, hysterical and joyous, by the fireplace. Finding his wand. Finding out he was escaping the Dursleys. Happiness is a brief thing, drenched in the shadows of his life. Happiness is contentment, even if it is a momentary thing. It is the pleasure of a perfectly prepared cuppa; from—nonono, not going there.

Harry wraps the sensations up, one by one, like he’s re-wrapping hard candy, and throws them at Voldemort. Into Voldemort. All but one—his favourite one, his happiest one. That, he grasps, and it’s actual candy in his hand, a sweet that he looks down to, and then unwraps, and he’s moving forward, intent eyes raising, and Voldemort is already gasping, a bit, at the suddenness of it all—of pleasure.

Harry’s lips curl and he pushes the candy into the slightly agape mouth of the Dark Lord a bit cruelly, shoving it deep. He pulls back quickly, before sharp teeth can gnash on his fingers, and watches on as Voldemort experiences pleasure. As Voldemort softens, and sighs, relaxation in every hard line of him, mouth sucking almost greedily around the treasure that Harry has placed within it. Now he’s drunk on it, Harry thinks, horribly pleased to see Voldemort this way.

It’s not real, but still, he hovers on Voldemort’s desk and observes the pink brushing his cheekbones with fascination. He observes the way red eyes roll back a bit, and the way a long, pale throat swallows convulsively down on a slowly dissolving candy until there is nothing left.

Lashless eyes open, dark and suddenly staring. Red barely peeks out from behind the dilation of his pupil, and Harry’s smile is a smug thing.

“There’s your pleasure,” Harry whispers to him, like a secret. “I hope you enjoyed yourself. It can only get worse from here.”

“Worse?” murmurs Voldemort, staring at Harry intently. “You think there is worse you can do, Harry, then give me that and take it back?”

Belonging, thinks Harry, quite suddenly. He’d given Voldemort his favourite thing, the thing that he had been looking for, for a very long time. Longing, and peace, and laughter, and a burgeoning happiness that had very rarely managed to emanate past its conception. He had given Voldemort, too, his desperate hope for things to get better—and then he’d made them get better—and now Voldemort had lost it all.

Suddenly, impossibly, Harry’s eyes are liquid. I’m cruel, thinks Harry, gaze falling from red. There is nothing so cruel as what he has done, and he had done it so carelessly, so happily, so smugly, because he had felt slighted. Had felt wronged by this man who had ceaselessly wronged him.

Slowly, Harry looks back up at Voldemort, who is watching his tears with an expression of keen interest. 

“Has it made you sad to give your enemy your pleasure, Harry Potter?” Voldemort asks, gripping his wrist and drawing him near enough that Harry barely keeps his bottom on the desk rather than Voldemort’s lap.

“It makes me sad to treat you with such cruelty,” Harry corrects, “when I know you will never allow yourself to experience such pleasure again.”

“Would I not?” breathes Voldemort, eyes still dark instead of bright.

“You won’t,” whispers Harry. “It'd require you to trust someone. To have faith in them. And that, I know you’re incapable of, because you are a man but don’t see yourself as one, and gods do not have friends, nor equals.”

“Equals?” Voldemort’s breath brushes Harry’s brow, his stinging scar. “But what if Lord Voldemort were to draw you from the depths, Harry? Raise you from the pale mortality until you, too, are exalted? Then you may give Lord Voldemort what he so deserves; give me pleasure, Harry Potter,” Voldemort enunciates awfully. “Give me it all.”

I wrote this one of the first times I ever drank, and just expanded upon it a bit. I'm honestly really fond of finding these little things I've forgotten.

[daisiesonafield-blog]

Harry playing 'ninja' in the streets of Rome, May 2024

[twopoppies]

I can move on from the White Br(e)ad discussion haha!

Have you seen this photo, Gina?

Back to Brits 2023, Charli XCX was obviously sitting with The 1975 since she’s dating their drummer and so H was going around the table all the time when getting awards. Oh how much I loved that night’s drunk Harry kissing Lewis Capaldi, Stanley’s hand and throwing himself on him the way Stanley had to push him away with his arm because Harry was just too cuddly.

HAHAHAHAHA! I absolutely live for Harry at the Brits. Thank you for this.

[cwrotes]

pure imagination ; larry

strangers au | one shot | 5.7k

summary: “louis meets harry when he's completely plastered, stroking his dog clifford at three in the morning. when louis asks him what on earth he's up to, harry just shrugs, says something about dogs being brilliant, and then pukes on the lawn before passing out.

now louis has to drag him inside the house to make sure he doesn't croak.

or where louis is a writer with insomnia trying to continue the second part of his book and suddenly finds himself caught up in an absurd and ridiculous situation with a thoroughly sloshed stranger who claims to adore dogs.”

                  .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“"Oh, hi!" the stranger greets with a cheerful stutter, his voice deep and his cheeks reddened from the night's chill.

His attempt to get up is a disaster, his knees buckle due to the lack of resistance in his calves, and his tall frame wobbles before stabilizing halfway. Louis is amazed that he doesn't just topple forward and faceplant on the grass. Nevertheless, he remains alert and watches him with the same caution he knows he should employ during potentially dangerous situations.

"Is this your dog?" the stranger suddenly asks, breaking the silence that has settled between them as Louis doesn't respond to his unexpected and friendly greeting.”

[awesomefringey]

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CwvToOWvczW/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

What is this?? Never seen it before. He does talk some shit sometimes. But I guess the closet is never sleeping, not even when he is drunk / tipsy.

It’s from Jon Geller’s wedding in 2017. @daisiesonafield-blog has an entire post about it.

I’m not sure what you mean to say about his closet never sleeping. This is 23 year old Harry trying to be charming albeit being pretty drunk. It is hardly a pick up line and could never be counted as an attempt of coming across “straight”.

I’m a bit angry for him. This was filmed without his consent.

I hate that Harry can’t be allowed to have his inhibitions down ever or else people will take advantage of him, upload secret videos to the internet six years later for people to judge him and make bitchy comments about what his behavior says about his sexuality and his closet.

[aerxvn]

Drunk Harry - Drarry/Harco

Drunk Harry: wHy TF aRe yoU in my bLoOdy hOuSe, MAlfOy

Draco *taking off his coat*: This is my house, Pottah.

Harry *almost tripping*: But I live hereeee~

Draco *face palming*: Let's get to bed, love.

I dunno, I was bored. This is rubbish tho.

[wellbealrightipromise]

my tiktok fyp is all harry styles right now and i’m loving it.

however, in between the videos of drunk harry in a sparkly red jacket having the time of his life on stage, or videos of an even drunker harry kissing lewis capaldi, i'm getting videos of people crying to the audio of harry thanking the 1d boys.

my emotions as i scroll from one video to the next: 📈📉📈📉📈📉

[imliterallybeggingyou]

Elephant in the room time! I’d like to give a summary for everyone here.

I think we have all been waiting for someone to dig up something about Tim Walz, and what they found is a DUI from 1995.

Tim Walz was still a teacher at the time. He was with his friends, watching college football. He chose to drive home, and was pulled over for going 96mph in a 55. He was charged and fined.

Directly afterwards, he tried to resign from his teaching job out of guilt for his actions. He felt terrible, he felt disappointed in himself, and thought he didn’t have the right to teach or be a coach because of it. The principal pushed back immediately, asking him to stay. The principal refused to let him resign.

11 years later he became a member of Congress. 30 years later, he still hasn’t touched alcohol.

His drink of choice is Diet Mountain Dew.

Trump supporters are seemingly oblivious to the hypocrisy of their criticism of Walz. It has been 30 years since Walz was charged with his only misdemeanor. In May of this year, Trump was convicted of 34 felonies.

[alindakb]

Title: 25 Years of Christmas - 2002 Author: AlindaKB Word Count: 4189 (for now) Rating: Teen and up Prompt: Ogden's Olde Fire Whiskey A bottle of alcohol, specifically "Ogden's Olde Fire Whiskey" is pictured, along with a wand. The yellowed paper label on the bottle describes the whiskey as 'barrel-aged in dragonfire toasted Sessile oak' and states it is 'imbued with powerful magic'. The bottle is partially drunk and stands on a shelf against a grey painted wall. The wand appears to be made of rough holly, with a dark brown handle. Warning: No warnings apply Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. Author's Notes: This story is ongoing but mostly already finished (thank you NaNo) - tags on AO3 will update accordingly.

Summary:

A Christmas Harry would love to forget, so he reaches for a bottle of Fire Whiskey.

[twopoppies]

https://x.com/howdiharry/status/1793504567214416217?s=46

They said they won’t share it until he leaves Italy, and then they have another tweet saying how he got drunk with her friends. believable?

Sounds believable. But who knows with this fandom?

x

[the-original-gays]

James, drunk: HAS ANYONE SEEN MY BOYFRIEND?!

Stranger: What does he look like?

James, bursting into tears: BEAUTIFUL!

[ecstarry]

regulus being an absolute menace when drunk, he has never heard of personal space, not with james. there is nothing that will stand between him and his man. like clingy does not cut it, he is fully attempting to climb james every chance he gets but james loves this so much, he's happy to be a tree for reg to climb, his lap's only purpose is to be a seat for reg and he does not need his hands for anything other than touching his boyfriend all the fucking time

[ultravioletbrit]

“cigarette” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 262 words

Regulus is smoking on the balcony when James comes to stand beside him at the railing. Regulus slides his pack of cigarettes over to James who takes one and lights it before sliding the pack back to Regulus.

“Thank you.” James says.

Regulus hums in response. James takes a long inhale but instead of exhaling like a normal person, James tilts his head back and blows out small breaths making the smoke come out in several little puffs.

“You’re an idiot.” Regulus scoffs.

“Thank you.” James says again.

“That wasn’t a compliment.” Regulus tells him.

“Anything from you is a compliment. And I’ll always thank you for it.” James leans in to bump Regulus’ shoulder.

“You’re ridiculous.” Regulus pushes him away.

“Thank you.” James grins at him.

Regulus turns to scowl at James and James’ grin only gets bigger. They enter a weird sort of staring contest that Regulus knows he won’t be able to maintain before he does something stupid like push James off the balcony or kiss him senseless. He’s not sure which he’d prefer at the moment so instead he just rolls his eyes and turns back to the railing.

“You’re insufferable.” He mumbles.

“Thank you.” James smirks.

Regulus looks back at James and narrows his eyes curiously. He tilts his head to the side and thinks for a moment.

“You have beautiful eyes.” Regulus tells him.

“Tha… wait what?!” James sputters then just stares at Regulus dumbfounded.

Regulus smirks victoriously, puts out his cigarette and turns to go inside.

“Bye James.” He says cheekily over his shoulder as James stands frozen at the railing.

[mrsmikaelsxn]

Drunk In Love

masterlist

pairing: harry potter x female reader

warnings: fluff, mentions of drinking

summary: harry got drunk and when his friend dropped him off to you, he forgot you were his girlfriend

a/n: i thought this was cute, currently watching poa while writing this

song: kiss me - sixpence none the richer

You were lying in bed with your pajamas while reading a book. Downstairs there was a Gryffindor party in the common room, but you had a bit of a headache so you decided staying in your dorm would be better.

Your reading was interrupted when you heard knocking on the door.

"Who is it?" you call as you place the book down and stand up.

"It's Ron... and Harry!"

You go and open the door and smile at two of your favorite people.

"Hello," you smile at them.

Harry's eyes were closed as he leaned on the door frame and Ron was holding him up with on arm.

"Hi, I came to bring Harry. He had too much Firewhisky and then started to shout about how he wanted you, so I figured it was best to bring him here before he embarrasses himself more," he quickly explains.

"Classic Harry, thanks for bringing him Ron," you laugh.

Ron pulls him and places him in your arms. You thank him again, he tells you to come get him if you need anything and he goes back downstairs to the party.

"Hi Harry," you say while brushing some hair off his forehead with your fingers.

"Ah! Don't touch my hair," he says in alarm with slurred words.

"Why not," you frown.

"Only my girlfriend can do that"

"Oh really?" you grin.

"Yep," he hiccups.

You sit him down on the bed and fix his glasses that were falling down his nose, you kiss his forehead and he lets out a shriek.

"My girlfriend is going to kill me," he mumbles in horror and wipes away your kiss with his hand.

"Who is this girlfriend of yours?"

"Y/n," he sighs dreamily falling back onto the bed.

"Wanna tell me about her?"

"She's perfect. She's so sweet too, shes like- like- a rainbow of happiness"

"A rainbow of happiness?" you giggle at his words.

"Mhm, she is like- so pretty that I'm jealous, and everyone loves her. She plays with my hair, and holds my hand everywhere, and I love kissing her. Her mouth is so amazing-" Harry smiles while he thinks of you.

You started to blush at his words and he continued to ramble about the things he loves about you.

"I'm going to marry her one day," he blurts out with red cheeks.

"W-what?"

"Do you think she would marry me? Oh! I need to start planning," he stands up and stumbles to the desk to find paper.

"Woah, woah, you can plan another time, and I'm sure she would be more than happy to marry you," you tell him as you bring him back to the bed.

You go to take his shirt off to change him into his pajamas, but he tugs his shirt back down.

"Don't look!" Harry exclaims, worry clear on his face.

"Fine, if I close my eyes will you change into these clothes?"

"Yes, turn and cover your eyes. No peeking!"

"No peeking, got it," you laugh.

He changes fast and he tells you that you can look again.

"Y/n is the only person who can see me like that. Not a random girl in my room- do you think she'll be mad at me because you're here?"

"Umm- lets just get your teeth and hair brushed"

"Okay," he sighs.

You bring him to the bathroom and hand him his toothbrush and watch him struggle to keep his eyes open.

You brush his hair and when you both finish you two lay on the bed.

His eyes are falling shut as you hand him water to drink. He spills it on himself when he misses his mouth. You laugh and say a spell to dry him and the bed.

"Night, mystery person. Tell y/n I said goodnight and I love her if you see her," he whispers drifting off to sleep.

"Okay, goodnight Harry," you kiss his head.

The next morning you had so much fun teasing him about the previous night.

[icedcoffeebabyy]

“but it’s not canon” name one thing in this fandom that’s canon…i’ll wait.

[shrimpalbuspotter]

Harry trying to prove Draco is a death eater but Ron and Hermione not taking it serious is the same as Snape trying to prove something was going on with Remus since hes ill once a month and disappears at night but Lily not believing it and I think that's so fucking funny. Why are they so similar in so many ways it's genuinely kinda crazy