#fluffy drarry

[quail-in-red]

Your trope mashup art is giving me life! so brilliant!!! May I request 75. and 85? <3

Heya! Thanks <3 hehe… here’s 75. Bed Sharing + 85. Innocent Physical Contact!

I am still slowly trying to get through these haha

[icebear4president]

Me, reading fanfics: I’m so glad to see these characters acknowledging their past mistakes, and slowly starting to build love and trust between each other, and are no longer toxic.

Me, writing fanfics: Lol, I’m never going to let them be happy together. Let the suffer.

[itsphantasmagoria]

FIRST POST DANCE

Here's some drarry to get things going I guess

[drarrily-we-row-along]

“Bed, love,” a soft voice murmured, startling Harry where he was not sleeping on his stack of grading he had yet to complete.

“Can’t,” he said, shaking his head and then his hands for good measure. “Too much to do.”

Draco huffed a soft laugh, fingers gently squeezing Harry’s neck and soothing the tension. “You’re just sleeping at the desk.”

He shook his head again and forced his eyes open, “I wasn’t,” he argued, lying through his teeth. “Just resting my eyes. They hurt,” he added as he shoved his glasses up to rub them.

“It’s one in the morning, love, and you’ve been working all day, of course your eyes hurt.”

He groaned, “I’m never gonna finish these,” he said as he dropped his head to the top of the pile of papers.

“Come on,” Draco said. “Stand up. Come to bed.” He leaned down and brushed a kiss over the nape of Harry’s neck, “If not for your sake, then for mine. I don’t sleep well when you’re not there.”

It was a lie and they both knew it. Draco slept like a log as long as Harry was in their flat somewhere. He’d said it before, Harry’s magic permeated the whole space when he was there. “Slytherin,” he accused.

“Yes, yes,” Draco replied as he guided Harry out of his chair. “You can thank me tomorrow.”

Too tired to argue, Harry followed him to their room and let Draco’s magic wash over him, stripping him down to his boxers.

“Bed,” Draco said, nudging him toward the warm, cocoon of space that Draco had been sleeping in before coming to get Harry.

He collapsed onto the mattress, groaning as his spine stretched out from the hunched position it had been in, muscles aching.

“You’re getting old,” Draco said as he climbed in beside Harry, his hand soothing over Harry’s back before he covered them.

He scowled at him, “I’m younger than you are.”

“But listen to the one of us who’s grunting and moaning about laying down.”

“I’ll give you something to grunt and moan about,” he grumbled.

Draco laughed, “I think you’d fall asleep half way through. Hell, I would be surprised if you could even get it up right now.”

“Be nice to me,” he whined.

With a soft laugh, Draco drew him in and wrapped him in his arms, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Thanks,” he said, softly, not sure what he would do without someone to tell him to rest, and eat, and exist outside of being a teacher.

Another kiss to the top of his head and Harry was already drifting off. “Sleep well, love you.”

[phoebe-delia]

Stained

For @drarrymicrofic prompt: stained.

Draco hears his heartbeat in his ears but forces himself to stay still.

His breath hitches as Harry's warm, calloused hand cups his cheek, the thumb moving gently over bright red lips that part at the touch. Draco knows Harry must've confirmed the not-so-subtle suspicions that he wears lipstick; he wonders if Harry's fingertip is stained with it, now.

"Beautiful," Harry whispers, eyes still focused on Draco's mouth. "Just beautiful."

[stationintern]

soft hands and glowing eyes (T)

Draco/Harry Morning After, Temporary Amnesia, One incredibly hungry cat This is, really, very silly. I was initially going to have the narrator be an incredibly judgemental, omniscient, nature documentarian. But, the cat's perspective just came naturally. Enjoy this ridiculousness while I get my writing gears going again.

Oh god, you look horrible. Your lips are all cracked and sticking to your teeth, there’s all that crust around your eyes, and, Jesus, the hair. I shouldn’t even be in here. This is sad. 

I can’t believe you’re just now waking up at… two-thirty in the afternoon. That’s fine, Harry. I’ll just starve. It’s not like you’ve placed my food container in the back of the highest cupboard, so I am forced to wait as you hobble out of your room every morning. I wish I could have thanked your guest properly last night, but I was so sleepy and didn’t realize he’d left your bedroom door open until after he’d left.

He wasn’t one of your usuals. He was prettier, and pet my head before he went. The other ones never do that. Plus, he gave me the chance to do this–

Thwack.

“Mmmph.”

Wake up. You have things you need to take care of! Me, specifically. Please. Do I have to do it again? 

Thwack.

“Fuck, Fluffy.”

Good, you’re alive. I was beginning to worry.

“You’re not going to starve.”

I am, though. I really am going to starve if you don’t get up. Can’t you see how hollow and sunken I am? I must have lost ten pounds last night, and you don’t even care. At least your guest had the good manners to call me pretty and pet me. I should go find him, let him take care of me–

“Oh, but you’re so–” 

Okay, fine. You do have quite the knack for petting. I would never tell you this, in case your head gets even bigger. I already have to watch you struggle to pull your undershirts on over that melon.

“How did you get in here last night?”

You ask me so many questions, yet refuse to learn my language. Even if you could understand me, I would never incriminate your guest. I want him to come over again. He smelled like pumpkins. His hands were smooth.

“Wait–”

Looking around your room suspiciously should not be at the top of your priority list right now, boy! Me. I am the priority list. Oh, of course. Now you decide to organize. Actually, you’re making everything worse. I don’t know how you live like this, truly. I may not have to know, since I will no longer be living if you keep getting distracted–

“Yes, Fluffy, I hear you. Just–”

Is my food on top of your desk? On the bookshelf? Under the bed? I don’t think so. Kitchen. The kitchen is where we need to go. Onwards.

“Fuck, who the hell–”

It doesn’t look like you're holding my food container. It looks like you’re holding a shirt. I wish I could hold things. Then I could open that damned cupboard. The entire reason I keep you around is your ability to open that cupboard, and you’re still not doing it. I thought relationships were supposed to be 50-50? You fill my bowl. I grace you with my presence. It’s so simple, and yet you’re holding that shirt and staring at it. What has it been? Two hours? It feels like it.

“Hermione,” you mumble. You always do that right before you go to the telephone. I don’t like the look of this– oh, and there you go. To the telephone, not the cupboard. Cool. Fine.

“Just a minute, Fluffy.”

Just a minute. Then it’ll be another minute, and then another, and soon enough I’ll be belly-up in front of my fossilized food bowl. I hope you’re kind enough to hold a proper funeral for me when I’m gone–

“‘Mione, did you see me leave the reception last night?”

The wedding. God, you wouldn’t stop moaning about it, and I couldn’t even interject. It’s a shame I never got to meet Ginny. Anyone who can make you this miserable must be a hoot.

“Who was I with?”

Do you really not remember your guest? He was quite memorable to me, with his soft hands and pumpkin smell and shiny hair. His eyes glowed. How could you not remember the man with the glowing eyes?

“Oh, you’re joking.”

I’ve learned, after three years of listening in on your phone calls, that when you say “you’re joking,” usually, the person you’re talking to is not joking.

“No. No, no, no. There’s no way– No. Malfoy?”

Malfoy. Is this the man with the glowing eyes? Tell me, Harry, before my premature death, is this the man with the glowing eyes?

“Shit. Fuck. I never– God, and I have to pick up my broom at his shop…” 

You’ve placed your hand over your eyes. Never a good sign. 

“This is a disaster. Do you think he remembers?”

He probably remembers me. Unlike you-

“Should I just– I don’t know. I don’t know!”

Stop throwing your hands up in the air like that. You almost knocked over the fern. That was going to be my after-dinner activity, and it’s not as fun if you’ve already done it yourself.

“I’m gonna go over– Yeah, no. I’m gonna go over there right now.”

The hell you are. You look like shit, your breath smells worse than mine, and my food bowl is still empty. If we want your guest to come back, we have a lot of work to do before you leave this house.

“Terrified, but It’ll be fine… Yeah, I’ll let you know. Bye. Love you.”

Finally. After three long years– wait, why are you going back in your room? Wait! Wait! I’m coming, wait–

Oh, you arsehole. I’m going to reach my paw so far under this door– I’m gonna– You’re not even ready for the day I figure out how to use a doorknob. You think I’m annoying now? If I just– I’m so close. I’m gonna do it. Watch me. It’ll twist-

Fine, damnit. I’ll shift my schedule around and knock over the fern now. Ugh, but then you’ll have to pick it up. Okay, option two. I’ll lay down in front of my bowl and plot my revenge for later. Yes, I’ll do that. What are you even doing in there? 

I could jump up and grab that curtain again. I know you hate that screaming lady. I actually don’t mind her. She always tells me how cute I am in between insulting you–

Oh, welcome back to my domain. You… you actually look quite nice. How’d you get presentable so fast? I like what you’ve done with your hair. You should’ve worn the blue shirt, but black works, I guess. You look fine. At least if I starve, I won’t have to stare at your hideous morning form while I do it.

“I’m sorry, Fluffy. I know you’re hungry.”

Yes! I am! I do not forgive you. 

Open the cupboard, open the cupboard, open the–

Beautiful day. It’s a beautiful day. The sun is shining, you’ve brushed your teeth, and you’re finally opening the cupboard. Maybe you’re not so bad. Yes. Open the container. Yes, yes, yes! 

Victory, at last. Crunch. I can feel my– crunch– strength returning already. God– crunch, crunch, crunch.

Alright boy, now that our business is done, go speak to our guest. Bring him over for dinner. I’d like to see his glowing eyes again.

“Bye, Fluffy. Wish me luck.”

Good luck, Harry. Good luck.

***

The man with the glowing eyes is here again. He’s in the kitchen. If he reaches behind the kettle, he’ll find that package of treats I’ve been trying to figure out how to open. Maybe he’ll do it for me. Oh! He’s reaching… and he’s reaching… and he’s found them! Oh, that beautiful man. You called him Draco.

Draco with the glowing eyes and the soft hands. I like him.

He’s given me three treats! You always give me a measly one. How is that meant to be a treat? Such a tease. Now he’s walking back to your room, and if I can slip around his legs just so–

“Could you close the door?”

You are such a dickhead, you know that?

“Why?”

Draco asks the important questions. Finally, someone who understands me. 

“Fluffy will get in.”

“Is that a problem?”

“She’s a menace. You’ll see.”

Oh shit. He’s picking me up. Yes, behind the ears. Perfect. Harry, he’s perfect.

“She’s so adorable, though. Look at her little face. Awe, you’re not a menace, are you?”

I refuse to answer that question.

“She is.”

“Come on. Can’t she sleep in here? Just one night?”

You’re rolling your eyes. This is no way to respond to the requests of our guest. 

“Fine. Fluffy, you’d better be good. No scratching Draco in the morning.”

I would never scratch this fine specimen of a man. How dare you even imply–

“She’ll be good.”

Finally, someone who can speak for me in this house. Yes, set me on the bed, Draco. Your couch is too flat. Did you know that, Harry? Now, I must situate. Oh, this is perfect. If I just set myself on top of both of your legs. Yes, that’s nice.

This is nice.

“I’m glad you came over tonight,” you say, but you’re not talking to me.

“I’m glad, too. I may have to come over more often. Who will defend Fluffy if I’m not here?”

“She defends herself.”

“Let me have my excuses, Potter.”

“Fine. Come over and defend Fluffy whenever you like.”

Yes, Draco. Do that.

If you liked this, feel free to give it some love over on ao3!

[getawayfox]

@drarrymicrofic says today’s prompt is simple, I say it’s also extra cheesy *grins*. Here is 150 words of established tooth-rotting fluff. Thank you @crazybutgood for being a Comma Guru! ��

The perfect teacup in six simple steps:

Step one: boil the water (the deep bubbling sound calls you to the kitchen without fail, no matter where in the house you are)

Step two: warm the teapot (just like my mother taught me; you watch, chin hooked on my shoulder, your arms warm around my waist)

Step three: add the tea leaves (from that little shop on the corner you showed me last spring; I haven’t been to another place since)

Step four: steep the tea (like sinking into a hot bath, you say while we wait, it´s so silly, I can’t keep the smile off my face)

Step five: strain the tea (while you get the teacups in this choreographed dance we’ve practiced a thousand times)

Step six: pour and enjoy (a dash of milk for you, a lemon slice for me, deep exhale, a moment steeped to perfection)

[starlitsilvereyes]

Older Drarry makes me so emo because neither of them probably thought they’d live past seventeen. Hell, even after the war, Harry couldn’t shake off the feeling of death looming over him, like nothing came out of life more than death and death and death because it was all he had ever known of.

And after nearly three years in Azkaban, the stench of death and the trace of lost souls lingered with Draco, accompanying him on his daily walks through the Manor's withering rose gardens.

However, the older versions of Harry and Draco get to spend their days in Spain basking in the sun, and their wrinkled skin is covered with more than just scars. On Harry's hands, freckles sprawled like constellations, and a dragon tattoo roars to life on Draco's torso.

Draco's hair is more silver than blond, whereas Harry's hair and beard are all salt and pepper. Nightmares are long-forgotten memories replaced by dreams of having five seven children coming to fruition. They were stay-at-home dads for a while (which is perhaps the only time Harry has ever felt grateful rather than embarrassed about his astounding fortune). Until the children have grown up and moved on with their lives.

Now, Draco is a poet and Harry is an artist, both under pseudonyms. Without the rest of the world knowing, they are each other's muse. They have died and lived for each other in secret and their love is the most sacred thing they have ever held in the palm of their hands.

Harry no longer regrets coming back from the dead and Draco no longer resents himself for spending all those years hating Harry rather than loving him.

Draco, however, still scolds Harry for making his tea not scalding enough, to which Harry only rolls his eyes at. Harry still cuts his sandwiches into triangles because it makes ‘more bread’, which doesn’t make sense to Draco and probably never will.

Older Draco and Harry get to live the life they deserve and so much more. They get to watch a hundred more sunrises and a thousand more sunsets and the stars in the sky have woven into newer and more complex constellations just for them.

The road to all is well was a long one, but neither Draco nor Harry would change a thing.

[ladderofyears]

Sweet and sour.

The first Every Flavour Bean is sour, vinegar-flavoured, and Harry winces. “Are you implying something?” he asks.

“Not at all,” Draco answers, giving Harry a pink, candyfloss-flavoured bean. “You’re the sweetest chap that I know.”

Laughing at his boyfriend’s joke, Harry wolfs the sweet. “Now I’ll taste delicious,” he grins.

~

Fifty words.

For @microficmay

[basicallyahedgehog]

I enjoyed writing my favourite boys as cat and dog animagi so much that I told myself that I could write another instalment for every chapter of an anon fic I finish this week. This one is dedicated to my Robyn @coffeedrgn87, who is at least 50% responsible for this fic being as far along as it is, and for making every day a good one. Robyn requested puppy Harry playing catch. I hope you like it my Dragon.

You can find the first drabble here

"And....GO!"

Draco threw the ball as far as he could, watching as the little black and white puppy raced after it. They had been here for almost an hour now, and Harry showed no signs of tiring.

Draco wished he could say the same about himself, but he would do anything if it made Harry happy.

It had been almost a year since he and Harry had started dating. A wonderful, crazy, pinch-yourself-to-check-if-it's-real year, and Draco had never been happier. Harry was the most gentle, most patient person Draco had ever dated, giving Draco all the time and space he needed as he learned to trust both words and actions.

The early days of their relationship saw them both spending a lot of time in their animagus forms, fluffy puppy curled around a shaking cat as Draco came down from and panic attack, or cat chasing dog through the flat after Harry had teased Draco one too many times - again. Draco found it far easier to accept Harry's easy affections in cat form, content to spend hours curled in Harry's lap as his boyfriend read to him, sending him to sleep with ear scratches.

And Harry... Well, at first Draco had thought that Harry's animagus form did for him what being a cat did to Draco. He knew that Harry had completed the process before he had, and had just assumed that that was why Harry was more able to accept affection as a human. It probably still was.

But as their relationship progressed Draco discovered just how many walls Harry had built around himself. And as he slowly and carefully brought them down, he realised just how much weight Harry had carried - how much he still carried.

And that's when he realised something that even Harry hadn't yet. Being a puppy enabled Harry to relax and be silly in a way that his human form never did.

So when Harry had tumbled out of the floo today after a week-long mission that eventually went wrong, Draco knew what he needed to do. After gathering Harry into his arms and ensuring he was injury-free, Draco grabbed the lead and the ball, and took them both the the park.

He knew that this wouldn't fix everything. Knew that there would be tears and nightmares for weeks to come, sleek cat curled around tiny puppy in a nest of blankets and cushions.

But right now, as Harry bounded up to him, drool-covered ball in his mouth and spark of joy in his eyes, it was enough.

[corvuscrowned]

vivarium

It's not so bad. Harry can't remember much, though everything is tinted pensieve-blue. He can't remember where the days go, or why his glassy walls sometimes distort with refractions of blonde hair, grey eyes large as windows peering in. He can't remember much at all — it's really not so bad.

50 words for the @drarrymicrofic prompt ‘terrarium’

[rockingrobin69]

Baking Mistakes

To my beloved, most wonderful @getawayfox, with all the love. Happy birthday! 

“Oh no.” Harry could only blink for a long, long moment, before rushing right back into, “Oh no, oh no, Padfoot! Moony! Someone! Help!”

Fuck. Smoke rose, terrifyingly thick tendrils, and was that actual fire in the oven or did he finally lose it? because he might as well have. Lost it. Entirely. School just ended, he was meant to be an adult now, and…

“What is it?” Remus’s voice thundered into the kitchen, only seconds before the man himself. “Sugar beans, Harry, what the—”

“—Fuck have you done!” Sirius wasn’t too far behind. “Mate, you’re burning your pie!”

“You don’t say!” Harry’s screech reached a new, hysterical height. “What do I do? How can I save it?”

“Save it? We need to save the kitchen, you wretched little—”

“Padfoot.” Remus held out his wand, although he did spare a second to rolling his eyes. “With me, on three, everybody. One, two, Aguamenti!”

“You said on three!” Harry exclaimed, same time as Sirius shouted, “You never said what spell!”

“The oven is on fire,” Remus grumbled, a thin but determined spray of water extinguishing the flames. “One would think Aguamenti is—”

“But isn’t this—how’d you call it, eclectic or something?” Sirius cut him off. Harry was too busy pulling his own hair to listen to the reply (“of course not, you absolute goon, this is blah blah blah”).

It was all a colossal waste of time, and Harry couldn’t afford it. “What do I do?” he asked, voice thick with tears. “I need… it’s… I have to make, I mean, the cake was supposed to…”

“Oh,” Sirius said, face going suddenly serious. “Of course. June fourth. Should’ve known.”

“Right,” Remus was giving him a look, that look, and if there was one thing they had absolutely no time for… “Of course, the Malfoy boy. I mean, Draco.”

“D’you think he likes—what’s this meant to be, ash pie?”

“You’re so bloody funny,” Harry murmured, rubbing his eyes hard enough he was seeing stars. “Hilarious. Top comedy. Will you get your fluffing act together now and just tell me what to do?”

“Honestly?” one large hand landed on his shoulder with a thud. “Harry, love. Go to a bleeding bakery. Nothing good’ll come out of this mess.”

“But. But it needs to be… shit.”

He looked up just in time to see his godparents exchange a look. Remus was nodding, and Sirius sighed. “All right, all right. Vanish all of this, and we’ll make something together. When’s he coming over?”

“Erm, six.”

“Right, so that gives us… wait, what? Harry, that’s in twenty minutes!”

“Better work fast then?” he smiled, miserable.

“Buddy, you know we love you, but…”

“Please, please!” Harry was not above begging. “I see how quickly you two get ready in the morning, and you share a bathroom. With your skincare routine and your hair magic, you two have to be the fastest humans alive.”

They both laughed. “Not exactly human, dear godson.”

“If you can doggie style a cake for me—”

“No. Please don’t say that. Never say anything like that ever again.” Sirius was still shivering when he reached him. “Harry, there’s no shame in store-bought. Baking isn’t for everybody.”

“But Draco’s so good at it,” Harry whimpered. “At bloody everything. And I just wanted—never mind. It’s stupid. I’m never going to be… It’s stupid.”

They exchanged another glance, and now both were sighing. “All right, new plan. Moons, you’re watching the door. Harry, you and I are going to make my cousin’s famous no-bake-cake, and we should cut it in… just about. Come on, chop-chop. Remus, love? Don’t let him come in here before ten past, minimum.”

“I’m sure I can stand ten minutes of his fishing for NEWT scores.” Remus made a face, as though he didn’t love what a swot Draco was, didn’t actually prefer him to Harry. Some family, this was. Harry looked at them both, teary-eyed, with gratefulness this time.

“What are you waiting for? Get me the scales. And flour. And Harry… next time you set the kitchen on fire, we’re going to have a very serious talk.”

Harry nodded, a bit choked. “Thank you. Yes. Thank you.”

It wasn’t the best cake he’s ever made, but it was more than enough. Draco was happy, Sirius was happy, Remus was happy, and Harry didn’t burn anything else for the rest of the day. Success, in his book.

Oh, the oven? Yeah, it short-circuited soon afterwards. To be fair, all three residents were too scared to approach it. Good thing Draco will be taking all these muggle-studies courses in uni next year, because the Black-Lupin-Potter household sort of held him responsible for what happened. And counted on him, too.

Families. What can you do.

[steampunkserpent27]

I did it

for @hdcandyheartsfest 's prompt: Hug rated: G CW: Vampire Harry A sequel to this

He really should have known better than to tell Draco that he couldn’t do something. The past week had consisted of a constant barrage of attacks. Anytime he’d turn his back or be distracted with something, Draco would attempt to rush him and push him over. It never worked, of course. He could always hear Draco’s feet thudding against the floor, no matter how quietly he tried to walk, his keen ears always picked up on it. It had all started when Draco tried to knock him over last week, only for him to not budge at all. He had made the mistake of telling Draco that it would be impossible for him to push him over without him allowing it to happen. Draco was irrationally stubborn, and he had made it his full time job ever since. He was in the middle of making eggs for Draco, when he heard the tell tale creak of the floorboards. He braced himself, leaning back on one leg, right as Draco slammed into his side, wrapping his arms around him and attempting to knock him over in a tight hug. “Come on! Stop cheating!” Draco yelled, his face flushed pink with frustration. “How am I cheating?” “You always know when I’m going to do it, it’s not fair!” He flipped the eggs over, ignoring the stench that wafted to his nose. “It’s not like I can just shut my hearing off, Draco.” Draco crossed his arms, letting out a huff. “I know that.” He rolled his eyes and scooped the eggs out onto a plate, which he handed to Draco. “Eat. I’m going to make the bed.” “I can help.” He waved him away, making his way into the bedroom. He liked doing chores, it made him feel more normal, more human. It only took him a minute to make the bed, and he found himself looking around for more things to clean. Draco was rather tidy, so he rarely had much to pick up. 

He ran his fingers over the spines of his book collection, taking a moment to make sure they were all pressed back against the shelf. With nothing left to do, he made his way back into the kitchen. Draco was nowhere to be found, although his plate had been left in the sink. Making his way into the living room, he looked around for him there. He didn’t know where Draco had gone, but he suspected it was just another ploy to catch him off guard. The odds of Draco ever giving up were slim. He was too stubborn, and he certainly didn’t like to admit that he couldn’t do something. This charade could go on for weeks, and while he found the whole thing rather amusing, he was sure that letting Draco knock him over would bring him more joy than what he got out of watching him. Besides, it wasn’t like it meant anything anyway, Draco was just becoming a bit too obsessed about the whole thing. But then again, it wasn’t like Draco to be half-hearted about anything. He could hear the soft patter of footsteps approaching, only this time, he didn’t brace or resist, as Draco slammed into him. They crumpled to the floor, Draco landing on top of him. Draco looked rather shocked, as he stared down at him, blinking rapidly. “I did it?” He let out a breathy chuckle, unable to stop the smile that spread across his face at Draco’s disbelief. “Yes, you did.” Draco still seemed as if he couldn’t believe it. “I did it.” He let his knee bump against Draco’s hip, as he peered up at him, watching with amusement as a dark blush spread across Draco’s face. Leaning upwards, he pressed his lips against Draco’s nose, lingering there for a moment, before he moved to his lips. “You did, Darling. You did.”

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Flufftober Day 1: Wearing Each Other's Clothes

I'm not trying to imply that I'll write all of the flufftober prompts- life has been pretty busy but I couldn't resist this one. :)

Draco was always cold. His feet were always tinged just a little blue, nose always frozen when he tucked it against Harry’s neck, and his fingers always felt like ice cubes.

Harry hated it. Hated the thought of Draco being cold, he wanted him warm, and full, and happy all the time.

So he did what any good boyfriend would do and constantly gave Draco his sweatshirts and jumpers to wear.

This may have been in part because Harry himself hated feeling cold, being cold made him grouchy. But it was also because he loved his boyfriend and there was something about seeing him wearing Harry’s clothes that turned his heart into a frantic, galloping mess.

Every. Time.

And so, when Draco wandered into the bar wearing one of Harry’s hoodies, hood pulled up over his head, and Harry’s leather jacket on top, Harry felt like he might combust. It was one thing when he gave Draco his clothes and another entirely when Draco borrowed them himself apparently. Mine, mine, mine. That possessive little green dragon in his heart purred contentedly.

“Hey,” Draco said, oblivious to the way he was making Harry feel, as he slid onto the stool next to Harry to order a drink.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Draco’s neck, nudging his hood back, and giving into the urge to give it just a little suck.

Draco laughed and swatted his arm but he also tilted his head to the side to give Harry a little more room. “Brute,” he murmured but his voice was so soft, so fond that Harry knew he didn’t mean it.

Harry hummed, “you love it,” he teased, nipping at the pale skin lightly.

“I love you,” Draco sighed.

He paused and drew back just a little, just enough to see the flush staining Draco’s cheeks. “Yeah?” he whispered, grin stretching his mouth too wide.

Draco nodded once.

“I always thought I’d say it first,” Harry confessed, cupping Draco’s cheek to turn his face toward him.

“Well,” he said, eyes soft around the edges as he must have read the obvious love on Harry’s face, “you took too long.”

“I love you,” Harry said.

He smiled at Harry and leaned in the kiss him softly, “I know.”

“Good.”

The bartender cleared her throat and they turned in one to look at her, “sorry to interrupt. Did you want to order something?”

Draco nodded and ordered.

And Harry couldn’t help but think that it hadn’t mattered that she interrupted, not really. They had all the time in the world.

[wolfpants]

I wish you would write a fic where...

Draco tries to make a cake for Harry's birthday, fails spectacularly and Ron sets their past aside to help him make a new one (only 'for Harry's sake' of course)

Hugs,

Anne

I loved this prompt so much that I wrote 2000 words of it? So - thank you so much for planting the seed! Also, sorry I went a bit off brief and went down the Dronarry route... 👀

And thank you, endlessly, to the wonderful @m0srael for the incredibly thorough and swift beta work on this! You are the best! x

He remembers the look on his mum’s face at Sunday dinner when Draco had announced, in no uncertain terms, I’m going to make Harry’s cake this year. 

Not, I want to.

Not, could I?

But, I’m going to.

When Ron had helped with the dishes that night, his mum had ranted under her breath, levitating plates onto the rack too hard, going off about how Draco had never baked a thing in his life, let alone a cake, and doesn’t he know how difficult that is? To bake a tiered cake? It’s not just Harry’s birthday, it’s his big birthday, Ron! He’ll want something special!

Harry never wants anything special. The less fancy something is, the more Harry likes it. He clings onto old jumpers, he treasures homemade Christmas cards from Teddy, his favourite possessions are his photographs, his ticket stubs, his memories.

Ron knows, deep down, that whatever Draco serves up in front of him—whether it be a wonky, burnt piece of crap or something fit for a Parisian patisserie—Harry will not only devour it, but he’ll be in awe of it. Because it’s not about the cake, really. It’s about the thought that goes into it. The love.

Harry’s a sappy bastard.

Draco’s a little different.

🎂🍰🧁💘

Draco tries to make a cake for Harry's birthday and fails spectacularly. Ron steps in to help.

A Little Effort | Rated T | Dronarry

2k words

Read A Little Effort on ao3

[stvrlvghtwrites]

Breathless

It was always the same.

After a beautiful, lovely and passionate night of fervor they would lie together, skin to skin, heart to heart.

Harry would cup his face, kissing his face. "I love you," He would whisper. Draco would blush and whisper it back.

"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me." Draco would mumbe sleepily or some other adorable statement that made Harry's heart flip with wonder.

The only response he gave was kissing him as hard as he could under the warm covers, leaving him breathless and needy for more.